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THE DONATION PARTY 

i 

OR 

THANKSGIVING EVE AT THE PARSONAGE. 

a Cometiu in Cijrcc Srts 



BY 

MARTHA RUSSELL ORNE 

AUTHOR OF "THE COUNTRY SCHOOL," " A BLACK DIAMOND," (, A LIMB o' 
THE LAW," ETC. 



)2jt7 2- 



BOSTON 



1894 



C II A R A ( ■ T E R S. £)32jn ^ 



K,v. Gbobgi Baxter, Past* of PtwkfkittviUe parish, 

, i , his long-lost son. 

it al of steam and much time 
in which to say anything. 
i A ii 1 i 1:1 i . . iunt /< ' UShfs admirer. 

I Smith, • w$mlth} rut mean f aimer. 

( M l» 1 »:er. 

j. .>n. Si i ii. Bob, am- Job, tittgtrs, 

A 1 i \MI\ 

i, W I I I:, t'.e /" 

t htarUd, but rather sharp-tongucd. 

Mary. 



Maby, ~\ 

1 ! INK mi. ) 



the hro ,/'• 



I'li'l 11 . a . .' >ied maid of J. 

\\ mm BBOWB ' dumb. 

\ 
mmwiii',. ; ■''• J <> : "S sips. 

M l I I88\ 
VlLL IGERS, i:TC. 



:/. <; 




Copyright, 1894, by Walter H. Baker & Co 

W/0 






COSTUMES. 



Rev. Mr. Baxter. — Neat black suit, white cravat. 

Mrs. Baxter, Mary, and Hannah. — Plainly but neatly dressed. 

Herbert. — Plain dark suit, travelling cloak, gloves, etc. 

Aunt Jerushy. — Faded calico dress and gingham apron in first act; a 
rather loud delaine in the second ; and a black silk dress, with white lace in neck 
and sleeves, for third act. 

Phoebe. — Calico dress and faded tyer in first two acts ; neat dark dress in 
the third act. 

Pete. — A much-patched light suit in the first two acts ; fur cap, long scarf, 
etc., plain dark suit in the third act. 

Squire Applebee. — Gray business suit in first two acts ; fine black broad- 
cloth in the third. Should make up stout. 
t Bro. Smith. — Rough gray suit, fur cap, heavy scarf, coat, etc. 

Marm Brown. — Neat brown dress. Should make up as stout as possible. 

Mrs. Wilkins, Samanthy, and Melissy. — Plainly but neatly dressed. 

Old Peters. — Dark gray suit, with a home-made air about it. 

Mr. Smith. — A very stylish suit. 

Tramp. — Characteristic dilapidation ; the worse the better. 
Others, plainly but neatly dressed. 



PROPERTIES. 



Small turkey, nuts, celery, large platter, a few plates, dried apples, salt fish, 
potatoes, meal, two mince pies, loaf of cake ; comforter and balls of yarn ; 
red bandanna for Bro. Smitli ; broom for Aunt J.; sleigh-bells; two pistols; 
basket of small apples for Bro. Smith ; scissors ; white tablecloth ; dead mouse. 



THE DONATION PARTY; 

OR, 

THANKSGIVING EVE AT THE PARSONAGE. 



ACT I. 

Scene I. — An old-fashioned kitchen. Table R. Quiliing-frame 
l. Stove and sink at thick. Shining tins hanging over sink. 
Water-bucket near. A few rockers scattered about the room. 
Minister's family, consisting of the Ri-:v. Mr. BAXTER, Mrs. 
Baxter, Aunt Jerushy, and Phcebe, seated at table. 

REV. Mr. Baxter. Can't I help you to some more potato, 
Mary. It seems to me you have eaten but little for the la 
or two. {Smiting.) Are the potatoes giving out, or have the 
hens ceased to lay ? I can't imagine any worse calamity than that 
just now ! I hope the excitement over Thanksgiving hasn't taken 
away your appetite ? 

Mrs. Baxter. Oh, no, George; but to tell the truth, I do feel a 
little discouraged. It isn't right, I know. Whatever God sends us 
we should take in a thankful spirit : hut it doesn't seem just when 
you are working so hard that we shouldn't have more to do with. 
For the last two weeks we've lived <>n nothing but potatoes and eggs, 
for tin- sake <>f having a Thanksgiving turkey, so that it wi 
pleasant to the girls when the) come home to-morrow. But that 
turkey is so small, < ieorge ! I low in the world it's going round, es- 
pecially it one or mote of your parishioners should drop in, as they 
generally do on holidays, I don't see! Phoebe helped me prepare 
a pot ot beans to piece out the turkey with to-day, and thi 
the oven now. There, Phoebe, go and see it' they're all right, will 
you ? i hope they haven't burned! (Phcebi 

Ai \ r [i i;i n\ /i ). I think it's 

scandalous downright scandalous, I Ktcr. The id. <■ of 

your a-lettin 1 your wife dig and s ( rape as she does, jest be< ause you 

ain't got the go ahead ter see the deal 00 'baOUt \ our last Q 

tellery! I—' 

5 



6 THE DONATION PARTY J 

Mrs. B. There, there, aunt, don't make it any harder for 
George. Deacon Skinner knows as well as we do that the quarter's 
salary was due a month ago, and it isn't very pleasant to dun any 
one tor what belongs to you. 

AUNT J. You needn't try to shet me up this time, Mary, I'm 
agoin 1 ter hev my say eout, ef 1 die ier it. I've been bilin 1 over fer 
the last week, an 1 now I'm er goin ter speak. I've been here long 
ernough ter see haow things is gofn , an" I'm erbaout tired eout, fer 
my part. Deacon Skinner ought ter be ershamed of hisself ! He 
don't fergit hisself, let me tell ye. I seen that hypercrit drive by 
with lour big turkeys in his wagin this mornin', — jest ter think on it, 
— an' any gobbler ermong em could er swallered eours at one gulp. 
An' there's D aeon Black, rich as er Jew, makin' money hand over 
fist all the time by that new carpet factory o 1 his out in New York; 
In* could afford ter pay every cent o" the minister's sellery, ef he's er 
mind to, an' never miss it, — yes, an' build er new church inter the 
bargain, and he grumbles every time the quarter comes raound over 
the lew dollars he has ter pay eout. Then, there's Squire Apple- 
bee, the rii nest man in the caounty, jest as thoughtless an 1 jest as 
shiftless as the rest on 'em, .only a little freer with his money, 
that's all. Ef he don't git er piece er my mind the next time he 
comes, then my name ain't Jerushy Brimblecome ! My senses, 
George, <f 1 didn't hev no more gumption then you've got, ter let 
them men bluff me off an' set daown on me as them tew deacons 
does, I'd draown myself in the nighest mill-pond {sniffing) — yes, 
I would! You ain't nothin" like yer father. He had more business 
in the end of his little finger then you've got in yer hull body. 

Kkv. Mr. B. {smiling). Yes. yes, aunt; but, you see, being 
rich men both of them, the deacons don't realize and can't 
understand how much a dollar means to us. They are good- 
hearted fellows enough, but think a month or so will make no 
difference to us about the money, and — 

A i • NT J . ( nervously gathering up dishes about her plate) . Then, 
why in the name of common-sense don't you enlighten them? I — ■ 

Kkv. Mr B. {tipping back in chair, with hands in pockets). Oh, 
we are sure of it some time, aunt, and when we get it we shall appre- 
ciate it all the more for this enforced economy on our part. 

Aunt J. {aside). Wall, I reck'n we shall. 

REV. Mr. B. " Man doesn't live by bread alone," and it's well 
for us to pass through these ordeals occasionally to enlarge our 
sympathies. 

AUNT J. (sniffing and energetically pushing back her chair pre- 
paratory to clearing the table). Enlarge our sympathies ! Wall, 
George Baxter, ef I didn't know ye ter be a good man, I should take 
ye ter be a fool : and it's a question in my mind sometimes whether 
there's much difference. You always was lazy and shiftless erbaout 
money matters, and ye alius wilt be ! It's yer own fault ye ain't 
got no more fer Thanksgivin'. Good land ! it's fort'nate fer them 
deacons they ain't got me ter deal with instead o' you. It's either 



OR, THANKSGIVING EVE AT THE PARSONAGE. J 

feast or famine in this family. Phoebe, go out an 1 fetch in that ere 
turkey from the woodshed — ef you ken funl him — the Jones boy 
brought us, and charged a dollar fer. He says turkeys is dear this 
year, and ef size i.s anything to go by, 1 should say they was. 

{Exit Phcebe. ) 

Rev. Mr. B. Oh, we'll take your word for it, aunt; you needn't 
take the trouble to send tor it. 

Aunt J. 1 jest want ye ter see what we're goin' ter hev fer din- 
ner termorrer, so you won't invite the hull congregation hum frum 
church with ye. ( Enter Phcebe with small turkey oh large plat- 
ter.) There {pointing with disgust\ look at that! It makes my 
blood bile every time I look at that bird. We got him cooked this 
mornin' sost we wouldn't hev ter fly raound termorrer, an' it seems 
ter me he shrunk in the oven. I sh'd think they'd been er feedin 1 
him on water, an 1 it hed all evaporated in the cookin 1 . 

REV. Mr. B. (smiling). It does look rather small, aunt, that's 
a fact : but the beans are good enough tor me: and they are com- 
ing on all right, aren't they, Phcebe ? 

PHOEBE. Law, yes, sah; dey makes yer mouf watah ter smell 
'em. 

{Exit with turkey.) 

AUNT J. Mump ! they make anybody's mouth water that hedn't 
hed nothin' ter eat but eggs an' potaters fer two weeks. Ef you 
don't spunk up soon an' put er stop ter this nonsense-, J will myself, 
sec ef I don't ! There's the meanest set <>' people in this parish it 
was evei ray mistbrtin ter meet. 

MRS. B. Don't mind about the table, aunt; I feel able to 
it myself to-day; you've been working hard all the morning over 
the cooking and quilting, and 1 know you must be tired, 
go sit down. 

AUNT J. Set daown, Mary Jane Baxter, what do you take me 
fer: Hid ye ever know me ter set daown an' hold my hands when 
there was anything ter do ? Du you think I've come here ter live 
on my poor relations ? No, 1 ain't. That ere quiltin's ^<>t ter be 
done t r night, an' this table's l;<>! ter be cleared aua\ at re I ken 

go at it. {Enter Phcebe.) Phcebe, child, what did ye do with 
ll'ry ? 

.Mks B, {in su>- There isn't any celery for t>>- 

moi i 0V\ . aunt, is there. 

Aunt J. I ndeed there is. Phoebe's beet > her money, 

pom i hild, fer two er three weeks so>t we could he* 
an' nuts fer termorrer, an 1 make it seem a teetle moi 
Thanksgh in' ought* 

Rev. Mr. B. Voui id as of Thanksgiving, aunt 
of the flesh th tn ol the 

At \ i I ! 



8 THE DONATION PARTY; 

make yerself useful a-crackin' them nuts. Go git 'em, Phoebe, out 
in the pantry closet — an 1 Mary, I'll do the dishes while you're a 
gettin' the sell'ry ready. The more we git done this arteruoon the 
less there'll be ter do termorrer. {Begins to wash dishes^ etc.) 

Phcebe. Is yer goin' ter do all dese yer tings ter day, Miss 
Jerushy ? Dey mought be somebody drop in an' interrupt us, an' 
— an' — an' — 

Aunt J. {sharply). Well, child, an' what? 

Phcebe (aside to Aunt Jerushy). An' want some ob de nuts. 

Aim J. (aside to Phcebe). Wall, there is some sense ter that. 
It ud be jest like George Baxter ter fergit they was your nuts, an' 
give every one on 'em away. But I don't believe there'll be anybody 
h re this arternoon : folks is too busy erbaout their dinner fer ter- 
morrer ter go makin 1 calls on other people. They won't git no nuts 
if I'm anywheres raound, I ken tell yer; they'll be more likely ter 
git er piece o' my mind. 

Phcebe {facetiously). Golly, Miss Jerushy, one piece ud last 
'em. Dey'd neber want do mo\ 

AUNT }. {severely). Phoebe, "children should be seen an' not 
heard; 11 you ken go an 1 git the nuts an' selTry, an 1 then help me 
with these dishes. {Exit PhcebeJ Where in the world did you 
tew pick up that child? Wa'n't there nuff poor white children you 
could find, ' thout adoptin' a nigger? 

Rev. Mr. B. Ha, ha, ha, aunt, I'm afraid our somewhat meagre 
diet doesn't agree with you. You seem a little out of sorts to-day. 

Mrs. B. < )t course we haven't adopted her exactly, although I 
certainly shouldn't hesitate about doing so if I thought it for the 
child's own good. She is a poor waif whose parents died two years 
ago. They came here to the village as strangers, and as there was 
no one else to take care of the child, George and I took her home. 

AUNT J. Humph ! Started an orphan asylum. One on ye's jest 
es bad's the other. Ye wa'n't poor nuflf before, so ve took one more 
ter bring up, an" ter feed an 1 clothe. (Rattles dishes.) I ain't no 
patience with seen. 

Rev. Mr. B. You mustn't think that we're always as badlv off 
as we appear to be at present, aunt. This is the exception rather 
than the rule. 

Aunt J. It's alius the rule when I'm here. I dnnno haow 'tis 
when I ain't. I alius thought 'twas the custom fer the minister's 
family ter be invited aout ter dinner on Thanksgivin' Day : it alius 
was where I was riz. an' where you was riz tew. Haow of'en my 
lather lies had aour minister's family ter dinner. But them was in 
the good old times. It seems ter me that people is gittin' meaner 
V meaner every year. {Enter Phcebe with the nuts which she 
passes to Mr. Baxter, and celery which she puts on table. She 
then helps Aunt Jerushy.) 

Rev. Mr. B. Tut, tut, aunt, not quite so bad as that, I hope. 
We always have an invitation out on Thanksgiving Day. 

Aunt J. You don't mean ter say you've bed one this year and 



OR, THANKSGIVING EVE AT THE PARSONAGE. 9 

ain't accepted. Ye ain't got so much sense as I give ye credit fer. 
(Mr. Baxter Jinds flat-iron and hammer and begins to crack nuts.) 

Mrs. B. We were unfortunate enough to have two invitations 
this year, aunt, and, as we could not accept either without giving 
offence to the other, we refused both on the plea of wanting to have 
one Thanksgiving at home. 

Aunt J. Why didn't they do the next best thing an 1 send ye a 
turkey, then? 

REV. Mr. B. I guess it's just as well as it is, aunt: we have to 
account for all our presents, you know, and they are deducted 
from our salary. 

AUNT J. {raises both hands in astonishment and drops into a 
chair). Deducted frum yer selery. Good Heavings, 1 
I must swear ! 1 alius knowed this parish was mean, but that beats 
everything 1 ever hearn tell on — an 1 I s'pose they charge ye 
raound price fer their presents too ? 

Rev. Mr. B. {smiling). Well, they certainly do set a somewhat 
higher value on them than we do. {Knock heard at door.) We 
prefer to buy our own things to having donation parties, don't we, 
whirr ( PHCEBE looks at him in dismay.) 

Mrs. 1). {smiling). Indeed we do, George. Phoebe, th< 
knock : go to the door, dear — or, no, I'll go myself, I'm afraid Mrs. 
Hardy's baby has the croup again. {Exit C. D.) 

Aunt J. {rising). Wall, you can't tell me nothin' baout yer do- 
nation parties. Tildy Briggs hes giv me a pinter on them. Told 
me erbaout the time the church in the other parish you settled 
over afore ye come here giv ye a pound party. Says they not only 
ate up all they brought with 'em, but ev'ry blessed thing they found 
cooked in the haouse besides. My senses, I — 

Phcebe {loudly; covering her face with her tyer). Boo-hoo ! 
boo-oo-hoo ! {Sods violently.) 1 — I — boo-hoo. boo-hoo! 

Aunt J. {starting in surprise). Good laud. George, what's the 
matter with that child ? {Grasping her by the shoulder and shaking 
/, r.) Phcebe, Phoebe, child, what on airth's the matter? Ve ain't 
got a lit. hev \r ? 

Phcebe {still sobbing). Nb-o-o-o, I — 1 — I — ain't got no-o-o — 

fit — boo-hoo. {Sobs.) 

Aunt J. {looks at dishes, then at Phcebe's hands, then rot 

Mercy SakeS alive, child ! did ye (lit verself on one o" them 
dishes? Or tread on a tack, or a nail ? I don't see no nails raound. 
What in the name of all that's pood and -oat is the matter with 

\ H toothai he? 

I'mi ii No-o-o I i Si ' i | 1 1 iii, • ithache 

■ 

\i \ i i . Then what's the i 

er me, « hild. 

Phcebe 111.' p-promised n-nol to tell. Boo-hoo. 

and rests he, id on : 

Aim J. Promised not to tell ! That child's either delirious er 



IO THE DONATION PARTY ; 

goin' crazy, George. She ain't been aout o' this ere room fer the 
last ten minutes, an' she says she's promised not ter tell what she's 
er cryin' erbaout. Naow, who's she promised not ter tell? 'Tain't 
me, ter one. Why don't ye speak, instead o' settin' there a-gruntin 1 ? 

Rev. Mr. B. Phoebe, my dear, what's the matter? Tell us what 
the trouble is. and perhaps we can help you ; but we certainly can't 
if we have no idea what your difficulty is about. 

Phcebe {still sobbing). D-dat's jess w-w-what's de mattah — I 
— I — I — p-p-proraised n-n-n-not to tell, an" I neber b-b-b-broke a 
promise {sobs) in all my — my — my life. (Sobs more violently.} I 
— I — I don't want no d-donation pahty. Boo-hoo ! I — I — I didn't 
know deyet up what dey finds in de house. Boo-hoo ! 

AUNT J. {sttiffitif). There, George, I told you that child wus 
crazy. Ef that's all thet's worryin" ye, child, yer a-sheddin' yer 
tears fer nothin'. Ye needn't never worry erbaout this parish a 
£\x\ri you a donation party, when they're too mean ter give one ter 
their own pastor right here in the haouse. Ef yer tired, say so, an' 
I'll do the rest o' the work myself; but don't, for mercy sake, go ter 
takin' on so. 

Rev. Mr. B. The child evidently has something on her mind 
that's troubling her. We won't ask you to break your promise, 
Phoebe, but you should be a little more careful about giving prom- 
ises in future. 

I'iuki.i:. I — I — I didn't ask dem ter tell me; dey up an' tole 
me, an 1 — an 1 — an' I couldn't help it. ( 11 '/pes her eyes and stares, 
as Mrs. Baxter ushers Squike Applebee and Brother Smith 

into the room, CD.) 

Mrs. B. Here is Squire Applebee and Mr. Smith, George. I 
asked them to go up into your study, but they preferred to come 
out into the kitchen with us. 

Rev. Mr. B. {giving a hand to each). That's right; Brother 
Smith and Squire I'm glad to see you. Here, let me take your 
coat and hat. (Places them across the back of a chair.) This is 
our Aunt Jerushy, brother; she has been with us several weeks, 
but I hardly think you've happened to meet her before, as you 
haven't been out much of late. 

AUNT T- (stiffly). How de do, Mr. Smith? I'm glad ter make 
yer acquaintance. 

Bro. S. (awkwardly). How d'do, Miss Jerushy. Kinder cold 
weather fur Thanksgivin 1 . (Shake hands.) 

AUNT J. Wall, I s'pose it is ef yer aout in it much, but I ain't. 

Rev. Mr. B. (smiling). Squire, you don't need any intro- 
duction. 

Squire A. {chuckling). No. no: me an' Jerushy's knowed each 
other ever sence we was knee high ter hopper-grasses. S'pose ye'll 
shake, Jerushy? I don't see but yer jest as bloomin' as ye ever 
was. (Chuckles.) 

Aunt J. (snatching her hand away). There's no fool like an 
old fool, John Applebee. Ef I was you, at your time o' life, I'd be- 



OR, THANKSGIVING EVE AT THE PARSONAGE. I I 

gin ter cultivate a lcctle more sense. Set daown an* behave yerself 
— ef ye can. (Squire scats himself, laughing at Aunt JERUSHY, 
who busies herself about the table.) 

MRS. B. I hope your wife is well, Mr. Smith. 

Bro. S. Middlin 1 , thank ye. Her rheumatiz is a leetle better 
this winter so far. But she don't ,^ r o eout Done yet. 

AUNT J. Did she ever try eatiif onions fer rheumatiz? It don't 
make no difference haow ye prepare 'em — jest as good ef she eats 
'em raw, ef they agree with her that way: it's the best thing fer 
rheumatiz I ever hearn on. Jim Tucker daown ter the Holler was 
most doubled up with it ; but sence he tried the onions he ain't lost 
a day's work. 

BRO. S. I never hearn tell o 1 them fur rheumatiz afore : but's 
fur's I'm concarned, seems ter me the remedy's wuss'n the dis- 
ease. Howsumnever, I'll tell my wife erbeout it, an' she ken 
try it ef she wants tew. S'pose ye've been here long ernuff tew see 
the place? 

Aunt J. Wall, yes; all I wanter. (Squike Appleree laughs.) 

Bro. S. {dubiously). H'm-m! Er — nice place. Proper smart 
taown. 

Aunt J. It's natTal fer them as never left it ter think so, I 
s'pose. Ye hev ter know the people fust, an 1 know what they're 
a-doin\ afore ye ken be intelligent on that pint. 

Mrs. B. {aside). Do be careful, aunt : he is one of our 
wealthiest men, and very sensitive. Don't offend him, I beg 
of you . 

A.UNT J. {aside). There ain't no deceit in my natur, Mary, an' 
there never was. I ain't er goin ter lie tew him : an' ef I ^it a 
chance ter tell him what I think o 1 this ere parish, I shall certainly 
do it, an' give John Applebee a-settiir up inter the bargain. 

Mrs. B. {aside). Of course I don't want you to tell any false- 
hoods, but it isn't necessary that you should say all you think, 
aunt. 

Aunt J. (aside). Oh. it ain't, is it? Perhaps you know more 
erbaout that pint 'n I dew myself. Ef 1 should say all thet's in my 
mind ter say, he'd hev somethin' ter think erbaout frum na<>\\ till 
Christ mus. 

Bro. s. Pooty smart people lure tew. when ye get erquainted 

With 'em. S'pose ye've met some on 'em? 

Aunt J. ( glancing at the Squire}, Humph! Wall, it hea 

been my misfortin ter meet er few on 'em. an' I ean't >.. 

ter sample any more. 

Squire a. Haw, haw. haw : {Slaps his hue; Aunt Jerushy 
looks indignant.) 

Rev. Mk. B. [hurriedfy) . These an- fine nuts, Brother Smith; 
wonl you have some? Help yourself, Squire. 

Bro s. Don't keer ef I do. 

l'H'i bi | wdden/j . as tack dikes <; ... 
boo-hoc I 



12 THE DONATION PARTY; 

Rev. Mr. B. Don't be alarmed, brother; it's only Phoebe hav- 
ing a little cry. 

Aunt J. Yes, it's only Phoebe, Mr. Smith; an' as she's too 
little ter defend her own rights, an" has ter set an" see her own — 

Mrs. B. {taking ha' by the arm). There, aunt, Mr. Smith isn't 
interested in such trifles. Come, Phoebe, child, everything will . 
come out all right — don't cry, dear. Come, put these dishes in . 
the closet. 

Bro. S. Phoebe sick? {To Mr, Baxter.) 

PHCEBE {desperately). No. I ain't sick. (Sobs again.*) 

Rev. Mr. B. Don't mind, brother, 1 hardly think she is very 
well. 

SQUIRE A. Here, my dear, take some o' the nuts yourself, ef 
Ye want 'em. 

PHCEBE. I — I — I (sobs) don't want 'era ! 

Aunt J. {indignantly). You're generous with other people's 
nuts, ain't ye, John Applebee ? 

SQUIRE A. (laughing). Easy, easy Jerushy. Brother Smith 
here don't know ve es well es I dew, an' he might think ye kinder 
cross-grained, ye know. Anybody thet didn't know ye ud think 
ye meant everything ye said. (Laughs.) 

BRO. S, Reck 1 !] the gal's been eatin' tew many good things fur 
Thanksgivin'. {PuiEVE groans.) The doctors all tells me tew be 
keerful on that pint. An' that reminds me, I've brought over a few 
apples lur ye — wuth erbaout seventy-five cents, I should jedge. 
(Looks round.) What' d 1 dew with thet ere basket? 

.Mrs. B. ( pointing under the quiltjng-frame) . There it is, I 
think, Mr. Smith. 

BRO. S. Oh, yes. yes, jest where I put it, thank yer. Yes, here 
they be. Yer see eour apples is er beginnin 1 ter blet, so I picked 
eout some cr the best ones an' brung 'em daown here. (Shows 
some small apples beginning to rot.) Thinks I, " Naow them apples 
ain't no good tew us. Eour boys won't tech 'em arter they once 
begin ter rot." an' thinks I, " Eour minister 'd be glad o' them 
apples— they ain't no good tew nobody else, an" I'll jest fetch 
'em daown tew him," an 1 there they be. (Aunt Jerushy faces 
round and looks at him indignantly.) 

REV. Mr. B. Thank you, brother, I've no doubt your inten- 
tions are good. You — 

AUNT J. Yes, George Baxter, you are a — 

Squire A. Tut, tut — highty-tighty, Jerushy! Don't go off half 
cocked, an 1 make a fool o' yerself. Haw. haw, haw! ''There's 
no fool like an old fool,' 1 ye know. {Chuckles.) 

Mrs. B. Do keep still, Aunt Jerushy. You don't understand 
these things as well as we do, and — 

Aunt J. No; ner I don't wan' ter understand 'em es well es 
you do, nuther ! The little experience I've hed is enough. Ef — 
(Squire interrupts by laughing. She throws him a scornful look.) 

Mrs. B. Come, aunt, that's a dear aunt; just help me up-stairs 



OR, THANKSGIVING EVE AT THE PARSONAGE. 1 3 

with these things. (To callers.) You'll excuse us, won't you? 
This is a busy day with us. 

Both. Sartinly, sartinly. 

Squire A. (to Aunt Jerushy). I've got ter drive ter the vil- 
lage this arternoon ; ef there's anything ye wanter send daown ter, 
I'll be glad ter git it fer ye. 

Aunt J. No, thank ye, ye needn't trouble yerself! (Mrs. 
Baxtkk and Aunt Jerushy exeunt, the latter with stiff dignity % 
carrying her head high % hut giving the Squire a withering look.) 

BRO. S. Queer woman, that aunt o' yourn, elder. Ain't quite 
right in her mind, is she ? | SQUIRE slaps his knees and laughs.) 

Rev. Mr. B. (smiling). Aunt Jerushy has her peculiarit i 
her eccentricities, but we never discovered that anything was the 
matter with her mind. On the contrary, she is generally n 3 
as rather strong-minded. (BROTHER SMITH leans over and lielps 
himself to another generous handful of nuts.) That's right, 
brother, help yourself. 

Phcebe. Boo-hooi dem (sods) — ain't — ain't — no, dey ain't 
(desperately) — no mattah ! (Gets up and leaves the room, slam- 
ming the door after her. ) 

BRO. S. (in surprise). Your family seem tew be a lectle eout 
o' sorts tew day. Dyspepsy, mebbe ? It daon't pay tew \cc(\ tew 
high, elder, especially fur a minister. (SQUIRE Ail LEBEE chuckles 
to himself.) It ain't becomiif, an' besides it's expensive ter the 
parish. The bible says, " Be temperate in all things," an' as a 
preacher o' the gospel, ye ought ter make a pint o' them things in 
yer own family. 1 used ter talk consid'able tew Elder Tomkins, 
the <>ne as preached here afore you, an' — 

SQUIRE A. (laughing). I hearn tell that you give him one o* 
them ere lectures o 1 yourn on the sinfulness o' eatin' tew much 
once, when he hadn't eaten aothin'fur tew days on account o 1 havin 1 
all his teeth eout (Laughs.) 

Rev. Mi;. B. (coughing {lightly). I understand, brother, that 
you have not been very well of late — nothing very serious 1 hope ? 
(SQU1 k E chut kles to himself. ) 

Bro. S. Wall, 1 ain't ser bid off as 1 wuz — trouble with my 
stumick. 1 s'pose ye hearn tell erbaoul the doctors 1 hed ? Why, 
elder, then' ain't been er doctor cum ter taown fur the last three 

years that I ain't tried! Iloinvpith. alb path, wan: 

pure, an' ever) kind o' t irnal patent medicine I could gii I 

\ . when yer stumick's in the condition mil 

seem to !"■ no waj ter reach it. It seems ter be all tore eout like 

■') — all tore ter pieces, ye k 
eout er plait- : an' it don't seem tew work right, b< in' all . 

It don't co-operate with the rest o 1 y< , edicine 

ye swailer don't seem tec find it Bomehow. it ma 

orhil. 

Rev. Mk. 1 Such a condition <*\ tl ou de- 

scribe i^ enough to nil any one with a feeling oi awe. (S 



14 THE DONATION PARTY J 

Bro. S. (eagerly). That's so, elder. Why, I've spent seventy- 
five dollars a doctorin' ter git my stumick back into place, an' I 
don't know's I'm much better. 

REV. Mr. B. What is the nature of the medicine they give 
you ? 

BRO. S. Wall, that's jest the pint, elder, there ain't no natur 
erbaout it. The fust thing every one on 'em asks is wot I've been 
eatin 1 an 1 drinkin'; an' the next thing they tell me is that I mustn't 
eat this an 1 I mustn't eat t'other, an" I must let drink alone. 

Ri:v. Mr. B. What did they tell you to avoid ? 

BRO. S. {thoughtfully). Well, fur one thing, I couldn't chew no 
terbackef, an' I couldn't drink no whiskey. (Squire interrupts by 
laughing. ) 

SQUIRE A. Don't see haow they could find the way ter yer 
stumick. anyway, brother. 

Rev. Mr. B. {ironically). Yes ? Was that all ? 

BRO. S. {uneasily). I wa'n't tew drink tew much tea ner coffee 
nuther; so at last I says tew 'em. " Neow, look here, you're a 
tryin' ter st irve me tew death, an' ef I've got tew die anyway, I'll 
die eatin 1 an' save the doctor's bill. 11 

REV. Mr. B. The whiskey and tobacco are hardly up to my 
standard of temperance, Brother Smith. Isn't it well to "practise 
temperance in all things " ? A man should certainly practise what 
he so ardently preaches. As you hinted a short time since, 
brother, it would be very unbecoming in me to go into the pulpit 
and preach a thing I do not believe in sufficiently to put into 
practice myself. 

Bro. S. Wall, sartinly, you bein' a minister — 

i. A. (interrupting). I can't see where the nourishment 
com -s in, anyway, in the things yeVe mentioned, brother; but sence 
I don't use none on 'em, perhaps I ain't capable er jedgeinV 
(BROTHER Smith takes out bandanna and mops face.) Meat an 1 
taters is good enough fer me. an' good honest bread an' butter. It 
don't cost me no seventy-five dollars ter hev' my stumick moved 
back into pi ice on that bill o 1 fare though, I know thet. 

Bro. S. {uneasily). Wall, we ain't all erlike, ye know, Squire. 

SQUIRE A. {direct). No. (Aside.) Thank the Lord! 

REV. Mr. B. (smiling). Brother Smith has in mind, probably, 
tint old saying, that one man's meat is another man's poison. 

Br >. S. Yes, elder, jess so. Course, I ain't got the edication 
an' can't say it's well's you, but that's erbaout what I meant. (Aris- 
ing.) Wall, the boys'll expect me ter be home in time ter help milk 
ther caows, so I reck'n I'd better be goin'. (Mr. Baxter passes 
coal, scarf, etc.) Ef ye want any more er them apples, I'll bring 
'em over. Good-arternoon. (Exit, r. d., Mr. Baxter accom- 
panying him to the door. Outside.) Hear you're er goin' ter 
spend Thanksgivin' ter home. May call raound. {Calling back to 
Squire.) Good-night, Squire. Call an 1 see us sometime. 

Squire A. Mebbe I will, sometime. Good-arternoon. 



OR, THANKSGIVING EVE AT THE PARSONAGE. 1 5 

Rev. Mk. B. Call round at any time, brother. You will always 
find some one here to welcome you. {Closing dour.) A well- 
meaning man ! A well-meaning man ! Strange he can't see that 
it is liquor that is doing the mischief with him, is it not? Always 
has something else to lay it to. 

SQUIRE A. It seems kind o 1 cur'ous, elder, hut I s*pose it's 
human natur arter all. It's been my experience that all on us is in- 
clined ter nuss eour own little sins an* think they do us no harm, 
an 1 all the time they're a-gittin" the upper hand on us. 1 used ter 
think there might be one exception ter the rule, an' that was my- 
self. {Chuckles.) But l"m beginnin' ter think I'm erbaout's bail's 
the rest {laughing)^ though I mightn't keer ter make that remark 
afore Jerushy. but, foolin 1 aside, I cum ter see haow ye was off 
fer Thanksgivin', et" ye'll excuse the liberty, elder. {Puts hands in 
pockets, and stands facing the minister.) Cot yer turkey, I s'pose? 
(MR. BAXTER smiles ana nods.) A good fat fourteen pounder, hey? 

Rev. Mr. B. {smiling). I'm not very good at guessing, but I 
hardly think it would weigh quite as much as that. 

Squire A. H-m-m-m ; no, I reckon not. Confound it all, elder, 
{walks floor) — I know I'm a back-slidin' sort o' Christian, an' 
I'm es much ter blame's enybody, but when I seen the Jones bov a 
bringing that measley-Iookm 1 turkey o 1 yours up here for Thanks- 
givin', it made me mad! {Faces minister^) Course, 'tain't none 
o' my business what the minister buys an' what he don't buy, but I 
know'd ve's expectin 1 company, an 1 somehaow things didn't look 
right. Thinks I ter myself, "It ain't because the parson's mean — 
there's somethin' wrong erbaout it ; " an 1 quick's a Hash it cum inter 
my mind, " By Giminee! I'll bet he ain't been paid his last quarter's 
salary." Yankee enough ter hit it right th' fust time, ye sec. fer I 
went ter see the deacons, an' sure enough, they'd furgot all erbaout 
it — jest es I did myself, like er tarnal numbhead. They ain't no 
cm use fur it, I know, but ye needn't scrimp yerself no longer, elder, 
the money'll be here by ler-morrow an' mebbe by ter-nignt; an' in 
ther meantime I've ordered a Thanksgivin' turkey as'll do credit ter 
tin- parish, i Walks floor with hands in pockets i) 

Rev. Mk. B. {approaching him with on: 

Squire, I knew it would come out all right in the end. and iff 
had come to worst, I should not have hesitated to come to one who 

has always proved himself so true a friend. {They thai 

I'm not a man of many words. Squire, but I appreciate, and feel 
grateful to you f>r vour kindness. 
Squlri A. Humph! I s'pose ye'd starved ter death afoi 

ask fur that money, ttlOUgh. I tell ye, elder, that sort o'tliii g 

here ; \\<- ain't used to no seen delicate ways. There wa'nt nothing 

backward eibaoiit yet predecessor, and we got inter kinder slack 

ways, ye know. They wa'nt no delicacy ter him. ES he wanted 

anything he made DO bonis <>' askin 1 fur it. an' I ain't sun- that ain't 

the best way. Bless my soul, that salary's more^i a month due. 

an' \ou ain't Opened yOUf mouth erbaout it ' < . s 



ID THE DONATION PARTY J 

REV. Mr. B. " All things work together for the good of them 
that fear Him/ 1 squire, and the lesson of patience was a wholesome 
one. 

SQUIRE A. Wall, of course yer right, elder, but Pd ruther take 
sech lessons on a full stumick myself. {Laughs.) I'm erfraid some 
o' the members o* yer family — Miss Jerushy, for instance — ain't 
been so phi-losophical. {Chuckles.) Wall, I s'pose I'd orter be 
goin'. Your aunt's come ter stay for the winter, ] reck n? 

REV. Mr. B. We shall keep her with us if we can prevail upon 
her to stay. 

SQUIRE A. Your wife's looking better'n she was when ve fust 
come here. Looked kinder peaked then. I thought. 

REV. Mr. li. No: the loss <1 our only boy undermined her 
health considerably. It's just four years ago to-day since he left 
us to go to India as a missionary. 

[RE A. (sympathetically). Du tell. 

Rev. Mr. B. He was young for the work, only eighteen, but 
mature as many a bo\ of twenty-five, and such a son as any man 
might well be proud of. 

SQl IRE A. So 1 hearn tell. lied a fever an' died at sea, didn't 

he? 

REV. Mr. B. No; the ship he sailed in was lost, with all on 

board. {Sighs.) It's hard sometimes, squire, to be reconciled to 

the will of Providence, yet we know that He is wiser than we, and 

His ways are inscrutable. I think that wife and I have learned to 

I hy w ill. not OUTS, be done." 

SQUIRE A. (Jakes off glasses, wipes theni\ and blows nose vigor- 
ously^. These ere glasses don't seem ter fit me's they used ter. 
My eyesight's er failin", 1 reck'n. Wall, it's kinder hard fur people 
ter die: but ther don't seem ter be no way a-gettin 1 over it. It's 
nteen years sence my wife died, but the haouse seems lonesome 
even naow when I go hum. She used ter talk er good deal, ye 
know, an' make things kinder lively. She wa'n't alius pertickler 
'baout selecti n 1 agreeable subjects, but I got ust ter that arter the 
fust year er tew : got so's l's disappointed ef she furgot ter call 
me shiftless'n good-fur-nuthin 1 an' lazy an 1 sech-like names the 
minit I cum inter the haouse. An 1 I kinder miss "em ter this day. 
{Rising.) I s'pose yer want ter write yer sermon this arternoon, 
an' I've got ter go daown ter the village, so I'll be goin'. (Bash- 
fully, after putting on coat, etc.) Er — er— ahem — er — your— er 
Aunt Jerushy — er — is jest ez cranky — abaout er— gettin 1 married's 
ever she was. I s'pose? 

Rev. Mr. 15. (smiling). Well, I couldn't say, my friend, about 
that. I've never interviewed her on the subject. 

SQUIRE A. Er — no, of course not, er — but I mean ef yer should 
git a good chance, an 1 — an' don't mind speakin 1 a good word fur a 
— a— er (desperately) feller-critter — I — I — I mean ah — feller-sufl'rer 
— no, no. I mean er feller-citizen — I — I — 

Rev. Mr. B. I think I understand, squire. If I have any influ- 



OR, THANKSGIVING EVE AT THE PARSONAGE. \J 

ence with my aunt, I shall be only too happy to use it in your 
behalf. 

Squire A. {shaking hands). Thanks, elder, thanks. Ye see I 
knowed yer aunt when we was boy an 1 gal tergether, an* I was 
kinder sweet on her then ; but I thought she liked ernuther feller 
best, so I up an 1 married Nancy, an' — wall, I won't keep ye from 
yer sermon no longer. Good-arternoon, elder. Ye needn't cum 
ter the door; I know the way out. 

{Both exeunt, c. d. Enter Phcebe, r. d.) 

Phcebe {looking about in surprise). Where is eberybody? 
(Spies nuts on table.) De holy Je-rush-a-lum ! E( dar ain't dem nuts, 
wot's left ob "em. (Counting;) One, two, free. {Suddenly hides 
them under her tyer.) Hark ! who's dat? S'pecs l'sgettin' kin' ob 
nerbus. Ef dis yer farably ain't passin 1 undah de rod ob affliction, 
den my name ain't Phoebe Almiry Huxter ! (Solemnly.) Uis am a 
berry discouragin 1 season. Between me 'n you, 1 don't tink dat 
Mr. Baxter bettahed hisself a-comin' heah ; an 1 he sech a good man 
too. I's got one ting ter be thankful fo 1 ( YoUs eyes) — I's glad I 
wasn't bohn a .Melodist ministah. {Sighs.) It's a hahd lot. But 
dar, folks wot's got change ob haht ain't no right ter complain, an 1 
/ ain't a-complainin 1 : no, I's jes 1 talkin 1 ter mahse'f, dat's all. Ain't 
folks got er right ter tork ter deyse'f? Co's dey is ! (Half w 
per.) Bui dev's dis one ting 'bout it, ef Ps got ter lib on eggs an' 
t. iters much longer, I don' wanter be held 'sponsible fer dis wicked 
ole haht ob mine ter take de kinsequences. (Knock.) Who's dat? 

PETER (outside). It's mum — mum — me. 

PHCEBE. What mummy? (ScornfttUy .) Oh, yes: it's dat 
cullud pusson from de Holler wot's been sawin' de wood out in de 
woodshed. Ain't ye got strength nuff ter open dat do'? I isn't 
USter waitin 1 on niggahs. What does yer want? Come in. sonny! 

Peter (slowly opening door ', and stepping inside bashful 
— I — I wants you. 

Phcebe (with dignity). I isn't in de mahket, chile, I'd hab you 
undahstan ! ( /'<><ses her head, and pretends to be / . 

Peter (nentouslv). Nun— mm— now, Phcebe, vou know dud — 
dud -dat ain't wot I mean. I want ter tut — tut -tell yer somethin*. 

Phcebe. Ver 1 will, chile, go right on: but 'member I ain't none 
ob dem ignoramis niggahs wot you's in de habit ob 'sociatin* wif. 
to an eddicated fambly. 1 doubts ef you ken tell menuffin 
I don't know, t / ■ ,-. head.) 

Peter {triumphantly), Dud — dud — dud— dey's gug 
e ter h il> .i (liid dud— donation pup pup - pahty on de mum 

mum ministah ter night ! Yuh, yuh, jrah! 

Phcebi i. truing u/> nose). Ho\» long ye been car'hV dat ar 
i 'bom wif you, retah [ones? It smells kindah must] ! Is 
knowed dat ai fo de las' fire< • am mo' chestnuts? 

Pi in; l tought you'd 1 u no— be 

it dat, Phcebe. 



15 THE DONATION PARTY; 

Phcebe. Ef dars any danger ob you's a bub — bubblin 1 ober, 
Petah, you'd bettah set down an' cool off, chile. 

Peter. Dub — bub — bub — 

Phcebe. There set down. I tells ye! 

I'm ik (grinning). Fuf— fuf — fuf— Phoebe, wot yer gug — gug — 
got bub — bub — behind yer tyer? {Pointing to ooicl.) 

Phcebe [tossing head). Mahse'f, ob co's. 

I'll ER. Sus - sus— stop dud— dud — dat fuf — fuf — fuf— foolin' ! I 
bub— bub — bet \Du's bub — bub — been a sus — sus — sus — stealing 1 . 

Phcebe (fofM/). I wain you ter recoraembah dat I belong ter 
de niiuistah's fambly, Mistah Jones, an' dat you's now undah de 
ministah's roof. 

PETER {humbly). Dud — dud— dud — dat's all right, fuf — fuf — 
Phcebe; 1 dud — dud — didn't mean nun — nun — nuffin. Sus — sus 
— say. Is invited heah tut — tut — to-night, too. You dud — dud — 
didn't know thai nun— nun — now, dud — dud — dud — did ye? 

Phcebe. I don 1 know's Is perticlerly intrusted in dat news any- 
way. (Scornfully.) Co's we'd had ter hab de chore boy heah ter 
un' ter go ob errands an' so forf. 

I'l i ER. Nun — nun — no ! De sus — sus — sus — squire invited me, 
ful In! Phcebe, 'cause I's in his Sus — Sus — Sunday-school class. 
I nun nun — know wot the squire's gug— gug — gwine to bring, 
Phcebe. (She looks at him quest ioningly.) Bub — bub — but it's a 
sus— sus —secret ! Yuh, yuh, yah ! 

Phcebe. I hasn't any cur'osity 'bout it whatevah, Mistah Jones, 
;m' ef ye can't interduce moah intrustin' subjiks ye'd bettah 'sense 
youahse'f an' finish (hit wood-choppin' out in de shed. (Tosses 
head and begins to sing in a low indifferent lone while brushing up 
nut-shells with her free hand.) 

" ( >le S it.in's crimper! around mall house, 
I -tunibhn'-block in mail way ; 
Bat fi sus i, mah bosom frier', 

He'll mobeitallaway." {Hums.) 

PETER (affet waiting a moment). An' I nun — nun — know what 
Dud — Dud — Deacon Black's gug — gug — gwine ter bring, too! 

PHCEBE. Humph! de mean ole skinflint ! Be jess like him ter 
bring all his poor relashuns. 

PETER. He went ter mahket tut — tut — to-day wif sus — sus — sus 
— some chuck — chuck— chickens, an" one of "em he couldn't sell foh 
lub nun— nun — nor mum— mum — money. You'll hab dud— dud — 
de honah ob habin 1 dat chicken foh youah dinnah tut — tut — to- 
morrow. Dud — dud — do you like bub — bub — bones, fuf — fuf — 
Phcebe? Yuh. yuh, yuh. yuh ! 

PHCEBE. We hab some'quaintances down ter youah house dat'll 
be glad ob dat chicken. We's agwine ter hab turkey, I'd hab you 
undahstan 1 — wif all de tixin's ! An 1 — (Aunt Jerushy bursts into 
the room, R. n.) 

Aunt J. Fer th' land sakes, Phoebe, hev you teched the turkey? 



OR, THANKSGIVING EVE AT THE PARSONAGE. 19 

I've jest been aout in the woodshed fer some wood fer th' study 
fire, an' that turkey's disappeared ! I can't find hide ner hair on 
him ! 

Phcebe (raises both hands in astonishment, letting (lie bowl <f 
nuts drop to the floor). De Holy Moses in de bulrushes ! Hev ye 
looked all rouiv? 

Peter ( gesticulating wildly ; attempts to say something to them) . 
Bub— bub" 

Phcebe. Yes," you fool niggah, you stair 1 dar an' bubble — Ps 
a-goin' ter look fo'dat turkey. Pick up dem ar nuts, an" don' make 
a windmill ob youahse'f! 

(Exeunt AUNT JERUSHY andPHCEBE hurriedly, c. n.) 

Peter. Bub — bub — bub — but I — I pup — pup — put it undah de 
bub— bub — bub — boiler ! {Runs after than shouting.) 

CURTAIN. 



ACT II. 

Scene. — Same as Act 1. Aunt Jerushy at quil ting-frame. 
{Enter Phcebe.) 

Aunt J. I've got er persentment that something's ergoin 1 ter 
happen afore we go ter bed ter-night, Phcebe, an' I can't git it aout 
er my mind nohow. 

Phcebe {raising both hands and gasping), Fo' goodness' sake. 
Miss [erushy, who — who — tole yer dat ? 

Ai NT J. (shar/dv). Who told me what, child? I didn't say 
nobody told me. Ef you ain't been the stupidist actin' child ter- 
day I ever seen, then my name ain't Jerushy Brimblecome. I sh'll 
d when Thanksgiving over, for my part. I said I had er 
ment that sometnin 1 was goin' ter happen ter-night. I didn't 
gay that anybody told me thai somethin' was goin' ter happen, an' 
I ilmi'i know that they is — it's er persentment, that's all ; an' 1 — 

PHGBBE. I — I — I didn't tell you nothin' "bout it. did I. .Miss 
Jerushy? I — I -- promised not ter — 

Ai NT [. N.iow hear th.it -ill run on! Her nerves is all un- 
strung. The idee ^( her a-t<T.in' meerbaout a persentment! Pll 

• 
hum, an' make some yarb tea fer her ter take a:. • 
ter-night. Air \<- ofn took this way, child? 

pn.i 1 111 don't kn..w . 

A 1 \ 1 I . I 1 i 

know! 11 Ye ain 1 knowed m i te>* things 

them ye promised not tei tell. Naow, why didn't ye tell 



20 THE DONATION PARTY J 

there turkey was under th* biler aout in the shed, instead o' makin 1 
me nearly break my neck over th' woodpile, an' scarin' me ter death 
inter the bargain. 

PHCEBE. Law, Miss Jerushy, I didn't know nuffin 'bout it mah- 
self — hones'n true. Dat fool niggah was out dar choppin' de 
wood, an 1 he put it dar ter be out ob de way ob cats, 'cause he 
had de do' open. 

Aunt J. You're a pair of simpletons, the tewon ye. {Sighs.') 
Well, ye ain't .done in th' world, that's one sure thing; there's 
plenty more like ye. I wonder why Mary don't come back from 
Wldder Hawkins's? Her darter must be took worse. Hev ye 
heard Mr. Baxter come daown from his study yet? 

I'll i:i'.i:. No, m i'am, I reck'n he ain't finished his sermon yet, 
he's had so many callers this af'noon. 

AUNT f. Hev ye got th' tea things all put away where they be- 
long in the closet r (PHCEBE nods.) Shook th' tablecloth? 

I'm BBB. Ves, ma'am. Ken I go up-stairs an' put on my best. 

A' \r f. (in astonishment). Tut on yer best dress? What on 
airth do yon wantcr dress up this time of night fer? Why, child, 
whit's got inter ye — air ye possessed? Ef 1 knowed where ter rind 
the n rarba I'd — there, now, on th' top shelf in th' pantry — I seen 
■ there only yestiddy — yell find some hops, th' best thing in th 1 
world ter quiet th' nerves an' make ye sleep. (PHCEBE sighs.) You 
git em, an' bring 'em ter me. | PHCEBE brings thou.) There, take 
them an' put inter half er saucepan o' water, an' let 'em simmer fer 
half er nour, an' as soon's it's done, I'll put ye right ter bed. Ye 
ken be lookin 1 alter that while 1 tie up er few more er these knots. 

I'n BBB I i ebbing). I — I — I don't wanter go ter bed. Boo- 
hoo! They ain't nothin' de mattah (sobs) wid me, but I — I — I 
promised not ter tell-11 ! 

A.UNT J. Ph eb ;, don't ye let me hear them words aout er your 
mouth ergin ter-night, now mind me ! 

Ph EBB. You said you had a perscntment (sobs) that something 

g tin' ter happen ( robs), an' I wanter be ready fur it! 

i J. Humph ! There's no danger but what you'll be ready 

for it when it comes, Phoebe; I never seen the time you wasn't 

ready for any emergency that come up. Go put them hops on an' 

let 'em be steepin', child. • 

PHCEBE. Please, Miss Jerushy, I — I — I don't want ter go ter 
bed. Please let me stay up a little while longer! 

AUNT J. N low ye know it ain't no use ter tease me when my 
mind's once made up. Go put that ere tea over the stove, an' see 
ef ye can't behave yerself till ye go ter bed. Naow, where'd I put 
them little scissors o' mine? I left 'em up-stairs, I'll warrant ! Jest 
like me, leavin 1 my things raound ! I'll hev ter go up an' see. I 
believe I'm er growin' fergitful, an' I ain't no patience with anybody 
what don't remember what they do with things. 

(Exit Aunt Jerushy.) 



OR, THANKSGIVING EVE AT THE PARSONAGE. 21 

Phcebe. Humph ! She tinks she's a-goin' tcr git dis chile off 
ter bed, an 1 dat Donation Pahty heah in less'n two hours! Well, 
I reck'n not ef dis young lady knows herself — but how's I goin' ter 
fix it! Golly, how I wish dey'd come now. {Arms akimbo.) 
Well, how's 1 goin' ter git out ob dis scrape, dat's de question. 
When dat woman gits a ting inter her head you can't git it out 
nohow, so 1 s'pose I may's well take de hops an 1 go ter bed an' hab 
it ober wid. {Tastes hops.) Ach ! ach ! {Makes wry face, 
da7ices on one foot, and drops pan on floor.) Dose hops won't be 
took ter-night — dat's suah. {Thoughtfully.) Now, how '11 I git 
out ob goin' ter bed? Golly, ef dar ain't Miss Jerushy's scissors 
right dar whar she's workin 1 ! I'll jess take kar ob dem ar scissors 
an 1 — golly, Til hide dem scissors in mah pocket, den. ya, ya, ya! 
she'll let me stay up ter let me help her find 'em. {Laughs.) Heah 
she comes ! {Cleans up hops front floor ; enter Aunt JERUSHY. 

Aunt J. I can't fer the life o' me tell where I put them scissors, 
Phoebe ! You ain't seen 'em raound here anywhere, hev ye? 

Phcebe. Seems ter me I did, Miss Jerushy, right heah in dis 
yer kitchen less dan an hour ago {both hunt), but dey don't seem 
ter be rouiv heah now. Did ye look out in de shed, Miss Jerushy? 
I'll light de lantern an' hunt fo' 'em wid you ! 

Aunt J. No, child, it ain't there, I'm sure, for I've' had 'em 
sence I went out there, an' I've looked in the settin'-room, an* they 
ain't there nuther. 

Phcebe. Hev yer looked in you's room, Miss Jerushy? 

Aunt J. {sharply). No. 1 didn't hev 'em in my room, child. 

Phcebe {sighing). Well, if ye 'members whar ye had 'em las', 
co's ye ken go right dar an' git 'em. 

Aunt J. Wall, I'll go up-stairs an' hunt ergin jest ter satisfy 
myself — perhaps I did take 'em inter my room. {Exit.) 

Phcebe {laughs and dances round the room). Ye don' ketch 
dis yer weasel asleep, no, sah ! {Knock heard at door. Phcebe 
admits Stranger.) 

STRANGER. Is this the Rev. George Baxter's house? 

Phcebe. It am. 

Sir. Is the gentleman at home ? 

Phcebe. He am, ef he ain't goned out. Shall I see. sah? 

STR. {thoughtfully). Yes — or no. Let me see — would you 
mind giving me a little something to eat, my good girl? I have 
travelled far to-day, ami am cold and hungry. 

Phcebe Dis am a berry poor place ter come fo' somethin 1 to 
eat, mistah. De fee' is we don' hav much ourselves — I ken gib 
you a — 

Sir. (starting). You don't mean to tell me that my — that the 
pastor of this parish doesn't get enough to eat? 

Phcebe. law! I tought you's a-goin 1 ter hab a tit obei dafl 
— an' dat's wuss'n we did. V.\ you'll sit down. I'll splain. (lie 

si/s.) You's roast in dat ar big out ob vou's. I'll help \er take it 
Off. 



22 THE DONATION PARTY ; 

Str. Thank you. ( Takes off coat and lays it across chair. .) I 
am used to helping myself. 

Phoebe. You lib round dese yer pahts? 

Str. I haven't lived much of anywhere for the last four years, I 
am a missionary. 

PHCEBE {raising botii hands and looking at him curiously} . Fo 1 
de Lor' sake ! You's a missionary ! I tought missionaries alius 
died. Mars Herbert was a missionary. 

Sir. How did you know that, my good girl? 

PHOEBE. 'Bout missionaries? Oh, 'bout Mars Herbert? I 
hearn tell "bout dat mo'n forty times. His fader clone talk 'bout 
dat ebery day. Mars Herbert was lost at sea. De ship was runned 
inter in tie night, I reck'n, and dey alls went down tergedder ; an' 
Mars Herbert couldn't swim, so he was drownded. I shouldn't 
tink — 

Str. (interrupting). Is Mrs. Baxter still living? 

PHOEBE. Oh, law, yes, honey : she's goned out ter call on er sick 
pus son. But heah I is a-lettin' one ob dem mission'ries starbe 
right heah in dis yer house, an 1 las' Sunday I sent hve cents to 'em 
out 'n India, sost dey wouldn't starbe. {Places plate, cup, saucer, 
<-. .) We ain't got much ter gib yer — nuffin but eggs, an' 
we wouldn't hab dem ef de hens wa'n't layin' ! {Puts food on 
We had de wuss lookin 1 tramp heah dis afnoon you eber 
did see, — looked \s ef he hadn't been shabed for a year, — an' a great 
big dog. I nebah see sech a dog roun' heah befoah. Golly, I's 
'fraid ob dat dog! He eyed me awful. De tramp tole me not ter 
be fraid. he wouldn't harm me; an' I tole him I didn't hab much 
moah confidence in him dan I did in de dog, an' dat made him 
larf. Oh, I was so skeered ! 

STR. {smiling). Do you have many such people here, Sally? 

Phoebe {indignantly). Sally! Dat ain't man name; I's Phcebe! 
Does I look like a Sally, I'd like to know? 

Str. No offence, Phcebe; I spoke without thinking. 

Phoebe. Dat was de name ob de Irish gall wot libed heah 'fore 
I did, an' dey all uster call me Sally when I fus corned heah. 
Humph ! dey ain't no low Irish blood in my veins, I reck'n. 

Str. (laughs). Ha, ha, ha! But you didn't answer my ques- 
tion, Phcebe. Do these tramps come here to this village often? 

Phcebe. Yes, indecdy. I'm jest scarred to death of 'em, I is. 

Str. Your eggs do you much credit, Phcebe, and your coffee is 
good. 

Phcebe. Yes ; an' dat 'minds me wat I's goin' ter say. Dat 
tramp was so hungry dat he eat up ebry pertater Ave had cooked in 
de house, and dat's why I can't gib yo' nuffin but eggs. Dat's all 
we's had fo' de las' free or fo' weeks an' I's a-gettin' mighty tired 
ob 'em ! Ye see de deacons is mighty rich men, an' dey links 
dat food comes as easy to oder folks as 't do ter dem ; but dey 
don' know wot 'tis ter eat pertaters an' eggs for brekfus, dinnah, 
an' suppah, day arter day, no, sah. An' so" dey furgits ter pay de 



OR, THANKSGIVING EVE AT THE PARSONAGE. 2$ 

minister his sel'ry free, fo 1 Weeks after it's due, an 1 dat makes it 
kinder halid ter make bbfe ends meet sometimes, ye see. don't ye ? 
(Stranger smiles and nods.) lint we's goin' ter bab a dandy 
dinnah termorrer I can tell ye. Turkey an' all the tixin's. Yum, 
yum! — but {raising forefinger and speaking in lower tone} 
yer won't tell Aunt Jerushy ner nobody, will ye? (Sir 
shakes his head in the negative.) Ter-night we's a--oin" ter bab a 
Donation J'ahty. Dey's goin 1 ter liab some singers heah — an' 
p'raps dey'll bring sumfin good tings to eat ; {sighing) but .Miss 
Jerushy says, dough, dat (ley gen'iy eats eberyting dey finds in de 
house, an' all dey brings besides. 

STR. {aside). Can it be possible that dear Aunt Jerushy is here ! 

PhcEBB. De choir's a-comin' too. I dunno whedder I likes dat 
choir or not; sometimes I tinks I does, an' sometimes I tinks I 
don't does. .Most ob de folks likes dem, — de deacons does, — but 
sometimes dey sings sech funny tings. Dey was teached dem tings 
down ter Boston, dey say, so I s'pose it's all right. Now las' Sun- 
day de man at de head shouted out (imitates), " An' Solomon was 
not arrayed, an 1 Solomon was not arrayed ! " den de new' ter de 
head, she jined inan'said (imitates), "An' Solomon, an' Solomon, 
an 1 Solomon was not arrayed ! " Den dey let" 1 off, an' de oder two 
begun ter tork about it; den dey all jined in tergedder. Wall, I 
begun ter tink poor Solomon'd neber git nuffin on, an' I couldn't 
heah de rest ob wot dey said, cos dey all got ter torkin* tergedder 
ser fast, an' got all mixed-up like ; but I reck'n he corned out all 
right, i'S 1 de choir looked mighty satisfied when dey set down. 
Squire Applebee's got de nice singers down ter his place: dey's de 
fahm-hands, ye knows. Why (ley's been wid Squire Apple: 
eber so many yeahs ; dey d m't neber like ter leabe de Squire, dose 
fahmhands don't. D'you know Squire Applebee, mistah? 

Sri;, (smiling). When I wis a little boy I knew a Squire 
Applebee well ; but tliis may not be the same one. This Squire 
Applebee lived in Apple lore Village. He was known by nearly 
every one. 

I'ii ebe. Oh, yes, everybody's hearn ob de Squire; dis mus' be 
de same one, cos he corned from dat place. He's g 

fahni in de country, an' de bestest house too. His men all 
in de porch in de summer-tun- an' sing all tie ebenin'. an' de 
Squiri- pitches in wid 'em too. Sometimes dey comes inter de 
pray' r-mee tin's. Col!,-! I's .<!.ul I's dar den — why de choir ain't 
uowhere den, dat's my opinion. Win dere singin 1 enee most 
lakes yer right off .<r Net mak like dam in', 

an' shoutin' " Glory Hallelujah!' 1 .' ter be heah ter- 

night sure. You goin 1 I I t.ih ? 

Str. < Perhaps Mr. and Mrs. Baxter wont care to 

entertain a stranger to-night. 

I'ii i in:. Law Bakes! Humph! You don't know 
takes iu ebe:v bummer .in' tramp an' beggar (i.-t comes 
. ) 1 — I — I — tl.u am't sayii 



24 THE DONATION PARTY J 

a — a — beggar or a tramp, sah ; I hopes you'll 'scuse me. But 
dcy dotes on missionaries — all on "count ob Mars Herbert, I s'pose. 
table.) Dar comes Miss Jerushy ! 
Sir. (aside). 1 wonder if she will know me! {Enter Aunt 

! I V . } 
Aini |. It's the most mysteriousest thing where in the world 
them m issors o' mine went to. I can't find 'em anywhere, Phoebe. 
Oh, good-evenin', stranger, a cold night. 

:). ( rood-evenin?, madam : it is growing rather cold 
out — a veritable New England winter we're going to have this 
ye i. I think, if the prophecies prove true. 

Aim J. Oh, well, them prophecies don't amount to much. 
Nobody can tell what the weather is agoin' ter be here till it comes ! 

i □ yer a stranger in these ere 

Hardly: my boyhood and early manhood were passed 
among these hills here. 

Ai \i J. Wall, now, du tell. Family's all gone, I s'pose ? 
STR. 1 have been away for a number of years, and, to tell the 
truth, I am in & an h of my family. 

Phcebe {standing near the quilting-frante^ and slyly producing 
l from p,hkct). l'o' de land sakes, Miss Jerushy, ef heah 
ain't j i 

A i m J. {rushing toward her and examining them). Wall, I 
snum ! Wbere'd ye find "em. child ? 

l'ii<] be. Right yew on de quilt. Right out in plain sight. 

Ai i J {sniffing). Humph! Wall, I shall hev tew hev some 

new glasses, 1 can't sec nothin' with these, it's no use a-talkin'. 

Now I've spent a good half-hour up-stairs a-huntin" for them ere 

IVe turned every drawer topsy-turvy, an" 1 upset every 

box 1 had in the house. {Sighs.) Wall, there's no great loss 

. without some small gain. 1 found jest the button the elder needs 

for his i at in a button-bag I forgot I owned. {Goes to 

workS) I wonder why she don't come home: she told me she 

wouldn't be gone long, an 1 she's been most an hour already. I 

..it's her a-COmin 1 now inter the front door. {Enter MRS. 

Baxter, c. d.) 

Mrs. B. ^faking offfurs* scraps, etc.). How nice and warm and 
COSe) you are here — it's frosty enough outside though. {Ho/ding 
out hand.) Ah. we have a stranger with us, I see. Good-evening 
sir, I bid you welcome. 

Sir. {rising and shaking hands). Thank you, madam. {Aside.) 
Almost the same as she was four years ago — a little older that's 
all. 

Mrs. B. You do not belong in this part of the world, I take it ? 
Have you travelled far to-day, sir ? 

Sir. Some sixty miles. But it seems so good to stand on 
terra Jirma again that I don't mind the journey. 

Mrs. B. Nevertheless you must be weary. You, of course, do 
not think of going farther to-day, or rather to-night. Did you say 
you had been on the water ? 



OR, THANKSGIVING EVE AT THE PARSONAGE. 25 

Str. Yes, madam ; my story is rather a romantic one. For 
several years I have been a missionary to some sailors who were 
cast away on one of the islands of the mid-Atlantic. Several ves- 
sels have been wrecked near this island, and the sailors, being 
unable to get away (as vessels never pass that way unless blown 
out of their course), have formed a colony which has proved quite 
a success. Fortunately the island abounded in wild fruits and 
game, the forests yielded building material, and three years ago 
an unfortunate wreck furnished them with seed for planting (such 
as corn and beans) and other necessaries in the way of tools, — 
and even live-stock, — so that life became quite endurable there. 

Mrs. B. I never heard of this place before. I did not know 
there was such a missionary field. 

Str. No, I never heard of it myself until four years ago. I, too, 
was cast ashore there, and was rescued by those same sailors 
whose courage has saved many another unfortunate who has drifted 
to their hospitable shore. {Aside.) How can I make myself 
known without giving her too great a shock ! She has no idea that 
her boy stands before her. 

Mrs. B. {sadly). It is just four years ago that my only son was 
lost at sea. He too was a missionary, and as dutiful a boy as ever 
made a mothers heart glad. Until to-night it has been too sorrow- 
ful a subject for me to talk on. For two years after his death, 
indeed, my grief so crushed me that my health gave way under the 
strain and I've hardly 'been so well since; how strange that my 
heart should go out to you an utter stranger ! I wish you could 
have known my Herbert. {Wipes eyes.) 

Str. {quietly). I did know a young missionary by that name. 
He sailed in the same ship with me. (Aunt Jerushy suspends Iter 
work and looks at him. Phcebe draws nearer with mouth open 
and arms akimbo.) 

Mrs. B. {much agitated). My Herbert! Did you know my 
Herbert ? 

Aunt J. {to herself). Wall, I never! 

PHCEBE (in wonderment). Fo' de Lor 1 sake ! 

Str. Yes; I knew him well. He sailed in the ship Thistle, 
bound for India. 

MRS. B. Oh ! tell me everything about him that you can remem- 
ber. I never expected to hear from my dear boy again. Do tell 
me all, I implore you, even to the minutest detail, and the bitter 
end. 

Str. Calm yourself. 1 beseech you, or you will be unable to 

bear the Dews 1 have brought you. and have travelled so far to 
bring. 

Mrs. 1>. Brought me — from my boy! 

Str. Yes, from your bow He never forgot his mother even 
when in the most extreme danger. The loss of the ship Thistle 
with all on board is probably all the news you ever obtained, was it 

not ? 



26 THE DONATION PARTY ; 

Mrs. B. (in great excite7nent). Yes, oh, yes, go on! Was my 
boy saved too ? 

STR. Let me tell you the story from beginning to end. The 
Thistle had been sailing, all day through a thick fog, and just at 
nightfall your son went up on deck, as was his custom, to exercise, 
and have a quiet hour of meditation. Pie had been there but a 
few minutes when he heard voices coming apparently out of the fog 
before him. He instantly gave the alarm, but before anything 
could be done the Thistle was struck, and immediately began to 
sink. There was nothing to do but to man the boats as rapitily as 
possible. Your son was so busy assisting others that he did not 
think of himself till the ship began to make ready for her final 
plunge. 

AUNT J. (mournfully wiping her eyes). No, I'll warrant he 
didn't. He was jest like his father in some respects, — alius tending 
ter everybody's business but his own, — the poor dear boy. 

STR. [smiling). Seizing a life-preserver, he leaped away from 
her as far as possible, heading, as he thought, for the vessel that 
had run them down ; but he never again saw that vessel, and the 
death-gurgle of the Thistle as she sank, left him a helpless 
mite floating on that vast oce.ni. It was a moment never to be 
forgotten ! Later he felt something approaching in the darkness. 
For an instant a thrill of tenor took possession of him, — he thought 
it one of the monsters of the deep, — but it was followed by a resig- 
nation to God's will. Slowly the monster approached, and at 
length touched him. To his relief he found it to be one of the 
boats. Where were the men who had so lately filled it ? As the 
frail boat was heavily laden, it is possible that it was overturned, 
and its occupants drowned. He never heard from them again. 
To shorten my story, he succeeded in righting the boat and climb- 
ing into it; and when morning dawned he discovered himself near 
an island whose inhabitants, perceiving him, came to the rescue. 
From that time to this he — 

Mrs. B. Tell me this one thing, I implore you — does my 
boy still live? Can it be? Have you travelled all this distance to 
— you were the only one saved ! You — you ! 

Str. {holding open arms ; Aunt Jerushy and Phcebe start 
toward htm; .Mrs. Baxter falls into his arms). Yes, I am your 
boy, mother, saved almost by a miracle to come home to you again. 
{Enter Rev. Mr. Baxter; looks in surprise at the tableau, then 
at Aunt Jerushy.) 

Rev. Mr. B. Why — why — what does all this mean? 

Aunt J. {wiping her eyes). Wall, George Baxter, I never ex- 
pected tew see this day, never ! 

Phcebe (-wiping eyes and nose 071 tyer) . Nor I — boo — hoo ! 

Mrs. B. George, can you bear it ? (Approaching.) He for 
whom we mourned — 

Rev. Mr. B. (starting). What ! Is it — can it be possible? Has 
the sea given up its dead? (To his wife.) Am I dreaming? 



OR, THANKSGIVING EVE AT THE PARSONAGE. 2J 

Herbert. No, father; it is your boy, Herbert. I am here 
safe and well — spared to you for many a lonj^ year, 1 hope. (They 
embrace.} 

Rev. Mr. B. The Lord be praised! He has wrought a miracle. 
Our son is brought to life again. 

Aunt J. {throwing anas about his neck, and kissing him with a 

resounding smack). Ye ain't goin 1 ter forgit yer old Aunt Jerushy, 

Herbert. Many's the time I've trotted you on my knees, and hed 

• ye across my checkered apron, and 1 ain't agoin 1 ter let yer forgit 

me now. 

Herbert {kissing her in return). No, indeed, dear Aunt Je- 
rushy; 1 haven't the slightest desire to forget you, and the check- 
ered apron experiences 1 couldn't forget if 1 would. {Holding out 
hand to Phcebe.) Were not going to leave you out in the cold, 
my dear; you and I will get better acquainted now, won't we? I 
hope you too are glad to see me. 

Phcebe {sobbing). Yes, sah, boo — hoo ! (Runs out of room 
sobbing, but stands near c. i>. unperceived by the others* until 
Aunt Jerushy starts to find her, when she disappears.) 

Herbert {smiling). What's the matter with the child? Do 
her emotions usually affect her in this way? 

Aunt J. Wall, ef you can tell me what's the matter with her, 
I'd jest like ter know. That child has acted like a crazy pusson all 
day. I'll jest go and put her to bed, then I can take some peace. 

Mrs. B. We'll take Herbert up into the study, where we can 
have a quiet taik together. I'd leave my quilting for to-night, aunt, 
and come in with us. We shall want to hear all about his experi- 
ences during these long tour years. Why not let Phcebe stay up 
to-night if she wants to? She's only a little nervous; it won't do 
her any harm. 

Aim J. Wall, just as you say. .Mary: but I think some yarb 
tea and sleep is what the child needs myself. {Exit.) 

Herbert. The same dear aunt as of old. mother. 
good to come home after being away so long, and find you all just 
the same as when I left you. But where are the girls, m\ - 

Mrs. B. They will both be home to-morrow to spend Thanks- 
giving, and we will have a grand reunion. 

Mi:. B. Four years, my boy, you will find have made a 
greal difference in the appearani e ol young 

ladies now, full-fledged schoolma'ams, and are teaching 

..ut twenty miles from here. Well, we can do the 
: our talking up-sl 

MRS. B. Your father doesn't feel at home anywhere. Ii. 

except in his study. Let us % 
Phcj ii. i . i'. ) 

I 'in i i Miss [erushy's a-huntin 1 fui me, an' I ain't 

dar. Now what'U Miss Hannah an' Miss Marj say whendej comes 

home an finds deie dead brod.r heali term.-n. i. Mv gollj ' won't 

we hab a lubly Thanksgh ur one 



28 THE DONATION PARTY J 

mo' to eat him. (Sighs.} Well, we 's better ofF'n poor folks — 
we "s got de beans to fall back on anyway. {Door opens, r.. and, 
unperceived by Phoebe, a Tramp softly enters, just as Aunt Je- 
ri shy is heard calling to PHCEBE.) Den p'r'aps clat Donation 
Pahty '11 bring anoder turkey, bein*s termorrer is Thanksgivin 1 . 
I wondah why dat Donation Pahty don't come. Now — 

(Tramp suddenly seizes tier by the arm. She shrieks, and jumps 
up and down, tossing her arms frantically. Aunt Jerushy ap- 
pears at c. D. flourishing a broom, which she brings down some- 
what indiscriminately on both Tramp's and Phcebe's head, 
adding her shrieks to Phcebe's. Pete now appears at r. d., 
tremblingly aiming a revolver at Phcebe's assailant ; ana Sqitre 
APPLEBEE appears at c. d., revolver in hand, followed by Her- 
Bl 1:1 and Mr. Baxter. Tramp now starts to escape by r. d., 
maliciously tripping Pete, who drops in terror to the floor. 
Squire Applebee, Mr. Baxter, and Herbert start in pursuit, 
the latter seizing Pete's revolver. Donation Party now flock in 
at < . i). with astonished looks on their faces.) 

Aunt J. (in surprise). Fur the land sakes, Phoebe, you've 
raised the hull neighborhood! 

PHCEBE (holding up both hands in astonishment). Fo' de Lor' 

! It's de Donation Pahty come at las'! 
A\ NT J. (screaming). The Donation Party ! (Aside to Phcebe.) 

Thin, child, you go and hide everything eatable in this house. 
But the beans kin slay in the oven — they won't find them! 

CURTAIN. 



ACT III. 

Scene. — Same as Acts i. and u. QuiUing-frame at l., at which 
sit or stand workers. 

Mrs. Wii.kixs. There, Samanthy, jest hand me over them 
scissors, will ye? This ere red yarn looks kinder putty, now, don't 
it, on this caliker? I alius tie mine with white cord, I think it's 
stronger. So that was the reason of all the hubbub when we come 
in. was it? I thought Jerushy Brimblecome hed a fit or hed gone 
crazy. Jest tew think on't. right here in our own village tew hev 
tramps stealin' right from under your nose ! It gives me the flutters 
ter think on't. 

Mi ussy. That Phoebe's a terror — she's smart enough for 'em ! 
(Laughing?) She told Miss Jerushy her arm was all black and 
blue where the man'd pinched her; then she winked at me and ran 
off saying we white trash didn't have everything patented. 



OR, THANKSGIVING EVE AT THE PARSONAGE. 29 

Samanthy. And Mr. Baxter's son's got home too. I shall 
never furget to-ni<^ht as long's 1 live. I'm all of a tremble now ! 
Why there ain't been so much excitement in Pumpkinville sence 
Squire Eaton's funeral. 1 shan't sleep a wink to-night, I know; 
and Alary Pepper says that Olive Burns told her that Miss Huckins 
told Fan Doolittle that Jane Stubbs told Sue Hobbs that the minis- 
ter's goin' — no, 1 mean thinkin' — o' startin' a Friday evenin' 
Bible-class. I can't <;it that out o 1 my mind, somehow. 

Mrs. W. Humph! Ef ye don't tend up to the Friday evenin' 
Bible-class any better "n ye hev to the Friday evenin' prau-r- 
meetin's, 1 reck'n it won't interfere with yer sleep to any great 
extent. 

SAMAN. (haughtily). I may have good reasons for stayin' at 
home, .Mrs. Wilkins. I don't know's it's anybody's business, any- 
way, whether I stay at home or not, this's a free country. 

MRS. W. Law! well don't git huffy, Samanthy, 1 didn't mean 
no harm. 1 s'pose th&youtig minister'll take the bible-class whilst 
he's here, an' that'll bring out all the voung folks, especially the 
gals. 

MELISS. I dunnos I shall come any the sooner for the young 
minister "n I shall for the old one. 

Sam an. Nor I neither. {They look indignantly at Mrs. Wil- 

KIXS.) 

MRS. W. Humph, we'll see! But perhaps the son's married. 

Ml i.iss. Weil, he ain't, for I asked Miss Jerushy ! {Enter 
Marm Brown, c. d., with knitting-work ', thumping floor heavily 
with her cane. ) 

SAM AN. Law. there's old Marm brown! I didn't know she was 
here to-night, did you ? 

Mrs. w. ( shouting to Marm Brown). Law sakes alive, Marm 

:. be you heir ': 

MARM B. Hear! Of course I ken hear! Who said I couldn't? 
There's alius some folks in the world as knows your busii 
good deal better'n you do yourself. Ilowd' dew, Samantl 
that you, Melissy? 1 .) They hed quite a time here to- 

night didn't they — tried to ste.d the parson's pig. N 
si eh -oiu. -..u in all my lite as they is now. 

All (in sui />riu'). Tlie parson's 

M \km B. Hey? What'd you sa) ? (.!/..• ' 
her hand.) Seems to me people is afraid to •• their 

breaths nowadays. 

S\m \ ). We didn't hear nod, in' about stealin' the 

parson's pigs. We thought it was Phcel e 

Marm B. Thought it was I Why your own common- 

sense ought to hev toM ire it u.fn't Phoebe! What'd that child 

want ..l a pig I'd like to know ! (A 

ri/ from the dead to.. I i alias km • 

man. but I thought the days ol miracles hed went by. 1 wouldn't 

a believed it, but his own mothei brought him up tew me and m- 



30 THE DONATION PARTY J 

terduced him ; what you see with yer own seven senses, ye can't 
help believin 1 . Queer, ain't it? Kinder hard to believe tew; but 
everybody else seemed to think it was all right. (Sits in front 
and right of stage in low rocker, and knits.) 

Mrs. W. 1 reck'n that was only a hgger o'speech 'bout his bein 1 
riz from th' dead. His ship was runned into, but he was saved, and 
has been a missionary to some sailors for four years, so Phoebe 
told me, till he was picked up by another vessel. 

MARM B. Hey? 

.Mus. W. {sighing). There, Samanthy, you explain to her; I 
can't go through all that rigmarole again. 

Saman. {shouting). They thought he was dead, but he was 
missionary to some sailors on an island ! 

MARM d. Xussin' some sailors on Long Island? Who? 

SAMAN. {in mock despair). Oh, no, she ain't deef. You try it, 
Melissy. 

MELISS. {shouting). They — thought — he — was — deaf — I — 
I — mean — dead ! (Others laugh.) But — he — was — wrecked 
— on an island — and couldn't — get — home — till to-day. 

Marm J), {thoughtfully knitting). Oh-h-h! Narrer escape, 
wa'n't it ? 

.Mrs. W. 1 low d'ye like, sence you've moved down to Waterville? 
We've missed ye a good ileal sence ye left us. 

Marm B. Wall, middlin'. It's a kinder one-hoss place 
though. Ain't much goin' on. Ain't been no weddin's nor even 
a funeral for the last eight months. Kinder settled down tew it 
now though. Got nice neighbors, and that's a comfort. Now 
there's Miss Phipps, the milliner and dressmaker, she lives next 
door — she runs in and tells me the moment any one orders a new 
dress or bunnit ; but that don't happen very often, though, for 
there ain't no occasion for bunnits or dresses more ; n once or twicet 
a year ! 

S \m w. Hev any preachin' there now? 

MARM B. {indignantly). Screechin'! Humph! I don't put no 
stock in them ere ghost stories — thev're all nonsense, and them as 
tells 'em is fools. The idee of the mill's a bein' haunted, jest be- 
cause nobody lives there: and it's against all common-sense tew 
think a woman 'at 's been dead for twenty years should come back 
here tew this earth jest tew screech ! 

Saman. {to others). Seems to me she grows deefer'n, deefer every 
time you trv to say anything to her. 

Mrs. W.~ Walb "tain't her fault. 

SAM \x. 1 — said — preachin'. 

Marm B. O-h-h-h ! ( Though tfiiVy.) I thought you said 
screechin". No, we don't hev no preachin' now. We did a spell 
arter Elder Smith left, and 'casionally Parson Wells comes over 
from Hopkin's Coiner; but law sakes — it does break up the day so 
that I'm kinder glad when they don't come. (Looking at Mrs. 
Wilktns suddenly and making an ea) -trumpet of her hand.) Hey? 

Mrs. W. {in surprise). I didn't say nothing. 



OR, THANKSGIVING EVE AT THE PARSONAGE. 3 1 

Marm B. This stockirT? (Holding it up.) Oh-h-h ! Yes, 
I'm a-knittcn "em for Sally Doten's husband — she that was a 
Smith afore she was merried. He's got the rheumatiz so had this 
winter he can't do nothin", an" poor Sally's jest about crazy with 
work; so 1 told her I'd knit her one or two pair o' stocki 
help 'er long a little, ye know. She misses the meetin's. poor 
thing; fur she could bundle the children off to Sunday-sei: 
git clear on "em an hour or two on Sunday; but now she has tew 
hev "em all day long, an* somehow Sunday seems the wust day in 
the week tew take care of children in. 

MELISS. What were they doin* in the other room when you 
come out here? 

Marm B. {without noticingthe interruption). Ye hearntell about 
Parson Sprague, I s'pose ? ( Looks at Mrs. W 11. kins who shakes her 
head in the negative.') No? Wall, ye know, we lied him for a spell 
— he took Elder Smith's place. But he hadn't been settled there 
morn'na month — an' quite a number o' the perish was beginnin' tew 
git interested tew — when a rich aunt o" his died an' left him lotso' 
money. {Sighs.) So, as he wa'n't dependant on the Lord no longer, 
he give up preachin', an" went tew live m the city with his 
the dear man. (Sighs again.) 

MELISS. (loude? ). I say, what were they doin 1 in the parlor when 
you came out. Alarm? 

Marm V>. Hey? (Melissy repeats.) A-playine post-office. 
{Scornfully.) Ei there"s one game more senseless than another, 
it's that one. 

SAMAN. {to Melissy). Come, let's go in. 

MELISS. {turningup nose). Humph ! Jest because Joe Bunker's 
there, I s'pose. There he is now. Holloa. Joe! 

JOE {standing in doorway). Say, why don't you girls come inter 
the p ilk •!? 

SAM AN. "Cause we've got something better to do than I 
kissin* games. 

Meliss. {aside to Mrs. Wilkins). An she jest asked m< 

in and play post-office with 'em. (Aloud.) Anybody that'll spend 

a hull evening playin 1 post-office must be Lovesick, 
kissed every girl in the room. 

[Ol 1 walking into room, laughing). They couldn't find a 
lookin 1 feller to kiss, could they, .Melissy? (Mi LISS1 

Marm r>. {suddenly turning round ). H 

foi 1 - ■ im ! What sel Marm 

Brown, pointing at 5 youVe knitting. 

M \1.\1 l;. 
: I 
■ w me he I 
1 him. 

|mi {aside to ± • ■ >. Wouldn't mind haviif a new ulster on my 
I 

m \>:m B. I'.imbi . '- all well, 1 ' 



32 THE DONATION PARTY; 

Joe. Yes'm, thank ye. Father's got all over his bronchitis; he 
took some patent medicine that cured him. The rest of us is all 
smart and chipper. (Aside to girls.) Except myself; nobody 
seems to realize what a critical condition I*m in. {Places hand on 
heart, and groans.') 

MELISS. You've missed your callin 1 , Joe Bunker; you was cut 
out either for a clown or a monkey, I dunno which. 

Joe (pathetically). Won't you please find out? 

MARM 15. What kinder medicine was it you said your father was 
cured with ? 

JOE. Some kind o' patent medicine, I — 

MARM B. Hey? Rattan medicine? I never hearn tell o 1 that 
afore. Made o' rattan, I s'pose. {All laugh.) 

JOE. When I went to school, I used to hear of it two or three 
times a day. Got a dose once in a while too. , S'pose you're a- 
knitten them stocking for the heathen. 

MARM li. W. dl.no: but it wouldn't be a bad idee. Dunno but 
I will, arter I git these done. 

S am an. (to Joe). A smart pair you two be. The idea o 1 send- 
in' heavy woollen socks to Africa an' India, where it's hot enough 
ter blister your skin in the shade. Perhaps you'd like ter send this 
comforter along with 'em? 

Joe putting hands in pockets, and sitting on table). Why 
imanthy — " What'll keep the cold out will keep the heat 
out," won't it? 

SAMAN. You needn't plant yourself on that table, Joe Bunker. 

i far this ewnin' without your company, an' I 

reck'n we ken dispense with it the rest o' the evenin'. ( fosses head.) 

MRS. W. Law, Samanthy, don't be ser cross-grained. 

|'H (bitting an apple lie finds in one of the hags on the table). 
It's the red hair that does it, .Mrs. Wilkins. They're awful fiery- 
tempered, ye know. (Samanthy looks at him scornfully^) Say, 
Samanthy, I never thought to look when I's a-skatin' or dancin' 
with ye, but your head must look like a revolvin' light, hey? 

S \.\ian. You'll never set the world on fire, with yer hair ner with 
ver brains neither, {/inter Josh, Ben, and SETH humming " The 
>aken Bucket." ) 

[<>>h. Say, girls, we want a drink. 

BEN. Yes. come hurry up there, Samanthy, an'gitus something. 

S \\i.\x. Wall, you jest make yerself useful, an' pick up that ball 
o' yarn fer me fust. (All dive for it.) 

JOSH. I've got it ; what'll ye give me fer it? (Holds it 7ip.) 

SETH ( matching it). What'll you give nie fer it? 

Saman. There, stop your foolin' an' bring me that ere ball o' 
yarn. I tell ye. 

Ben. He's afraid he'll ketch fire from that ere red head o' yourn. 
(All laugh.) 

SAMAN. (scornfully). Wall, there's no danger fer him ner you 
either — yer both too green ter burn. (All laugh.) 



OR, THANKSGIVING EVE AT THE PARSONAGE. 33 

Joe. You've got the worst of it this time, lien. Ha, ha, ha! 

Ben {rathe? crestfallen). Ain't mad, he ye, Samanthy? I didn't 
mean ter hurt yer feelin's. Say, what ye makin* there, anyway, a 
cushion? 

Saman. I take things from whence the) come. 

Ben. Ain't ye agoin 1 to ask a feller to sit down, Samanthy? 
{Sits. Others follow his example.) 

Saman. You're jest as much to home as I be, ain't ye? Ef I 
wanted to set, I don't think I should wait to be asked. (SETH 

passes ball to Samanthy.) 

SETH. Here, Samanthy, now we want a drink, {sings) " From 
the old oaken bucket/" etc. ( The other boys join in. While they 
are singing, Samanthy, with Joe's help, places bucket of water and 
two long-handled tin dippers on table, then goes on with work. 
The ministers family and a few others crowd in to listen to the 
singing. After song all drink ; the singers and the listeners 
applaud.) 

Herbert Do you sing "Old Folks at Home," 'joys? 
Others. Oh, yes, sing that, boys. {They sing.) 
Suiiki A. We can't let ye off till ye sing " Home, Sweet Home. 11 
Mrs. W. Wall, now, 1 could listen to that ere singing all night, 
an' not git tired. 

PHCEBE {rolling her eyes). So could I. ( They sine.) 
MARM B. {turning round just as they finish the song). Seems 
ter me»I hear music somewhere. {Boys go out laughing, f 
by all but Mrs Baxter; Melissy points to boys.) Oh, 1 thought 

they went out long ago. 

Mrs. B. I'm afraid you ladies are losing all the games by stay- 
ing out here. Hadn't you better leave the comforter and come into 
the pailor ? 

.Mrs. W. Law. no. Mis 1 Baxter, I'm hevin 1 a lovely time eout 
here — the girls ken go ef they want tew. 

Mi i iss. We're a-having a good time too; but we're a-comin 1 
in there soon, when they begin ter play consequences or conum- 
drums, and git over their kissin 1 games. 

(Mrs. Baxter gt es out laughing, c. d.) 

Marm B. I how d'w like the new choir? 

Mrs. W. I can't say as 1 like it very well myself. 

Marm B. Hey? (Mrs. Wilkins m Marm Brown 

■a with her knitting. ) 

Mrs W. {to Samanthy). I think it's ridie'lous for that choir 
tew sing seen pieces right rout in church. Why last 5 
you there? No? Wall, you dun no what you missed — \ou\\ oughter 
been there. The elder lied made the prayer, an 1 sot daown, an 1 
everybod) kinder settled themselves ter listen, when the hull choir 
begun ter holler, "Bring daown Sal*' an' the} hollered it three 
times tei the tops o 1 their voices, " Bring daovt n Sal — Bring daown 



34 THE DONATION PARTY; 

Sal — Bring daown Sal " — . Wall, by that time everybody begun 
ter git kinder narvons. They wondered what Sall'd been doin\ an 1 
i she was brung daown all right, I s'pose, fer the hull 
»n turned raound ter look, when bless me! ef they didn't 
go nght on singin 1 as ef nothing hed happened, " Bring daown sal- 
vation tew my soul.'" It's a shame tew hev a good old song broke 
up like that. 1 dwnno what the world's a-comin 1 to, when the choir's 
allowed ter praise the Lord in sech a heathenish way, fer my 

MELISS. Wall, that wa'n't SO bad. arter all, as when that Miss 
Atherton sung " Oh, tor a man ! Oh. for a man ! Oh, for a man- 
sion in the sk) ! een arter a man for some- 
time, an' when Sally Wright leaned over an' whispered ter me, 
••J don't see bow the Lord can resist sech an appeal as that," I 
enj mosl died a-laughin\ 

Saman. It's right enough ter hev these new-fangled notions 

outside the church, but it don't seem ter me right nor respectable 

■ m inside. The old congregational singing is good 

i for me. 

Mrs. W. An 1 me tew; but it's Deacon Black's doin's. He's 

tie flighty evi New York in the fall. 

I hearn tell that New York was an orfol wicked city, but I 

wouldn't a believed it would hev attec ted De; i Black so soon. 

. he tells the orfullest lies you ever hearn — says they send 

;> by lightning out there oi electricity, same thing. Jest es 

if ih' Lord 'ud permit sech a thing. I call that a-flyin 1 in the face 

dence; but there! of course 1 don't believe it — 

It's -'idy one o' his yarns. 

SAMAN. Seems to me I've heard tell o" sendin" things by elec- 
tri< ity. 

Makm 1'.. ( suddenly). They're a-gettin'up a new hearse up aour 
. / :i> ns and looks at others.) 

Mrs. W. Yon don't say. 

Marm B. Yes, and its erbaout time tew. I ain't took no pleas- 
ure in following my friends tew the grave tor the last year. Why, I 
wouldn't dare tew die myself, tew be drawn tew th' graveyard' in 
that rickety old hearse, ef they'd \ rtin tor it. It made 

me enymost sick the last funeral I went tew — it was when Mary 
Summers was buried. Poor dear critter! she was alius so 
skeart tew ride, ye know, an 1 I said tew myself. " It 'ud be jest 
like that hearse tew break daown with her in it — but we got there 
all right. They've put me on the committee tew solicit th 1 money 
for th" new one. an' 1 tie. lare, I've seen more human nater in th' 
last tew weeks "n I ever s r( - n in my hull life afore. Yesterday I 
called on Deacon Hatter for tew give five dollars towards it; they 
call him th' meanest man in taown, an' I sh'd hope he was — for he 
told me he reckVd he wa'n't agoin' tew put no more money in 
hearses, for twenty-five years ago he put a dollar an" a half inter th' 
old one, an' hedn't got a cent's wuth o' good out o 1 it yet. 



OR, THANKSGIVING EVE AT THE PARSONAGE. 35 



{Enter Squire Applebee, c. d.) 

Saman. Hintin' round ter git er ride, I sh 1 d think. 

Squire A. Ye seem ter be enjoyin 1 yerselves aout here. 

SAMAN. {suddenly springing into chair). Oh— h — h! Oh — h — h! 
There's a mouse ! {Pointing.) He jest run under th' quilting- 
frame ! (Mrs. Wilkins and IVtELlSSY scream, and jump on 
chairs.) 

Squire A. (providing himself 'with poker) . Where is he? I'll 
fix him! {They point him out to the Squire, who after a lively 
scramble holds up a dead mouse.) There J guess he won't hurt no- 
body now. (All but SAMANTHY ,£■<?/ down.) 

Saman. (with her shirts still gathered about her, looking at mouse 
timidly). Are you quite sure he is dead, Squire? 

Squire A. Dead ! He couldn't be no deader. (She gets 
down ; as she descends slowly MARM Brown looks round, and sees 
that something is the matte?".) 

Makm B. (in su /prise). What's the matter, Samanthy? 

Saman. A mouse ! 

Marm B. Hey? (Samanthy repeals ; Marm Brown screams, 
throws down her knitting-work ', and jumps up on her chair, 
screaming all the while.) 

Squire A. {holding up mouse). I reck'n he won't do ye any 
harm naow, Marm Brown. {Slaps his knee.) Haw, haw, haw ! 
Here, kitty, kitty, kitty! (Opens r. d, and calls again. Makm 
Brown descends and picks up her knitting.) 

Marm B. Dear me ! haow that scairt me ! (To others.) Why 
didn't ye tell me afore. 

Saman. {laughing). We was too busy a-takin keer o' ourselves 
ter look out for other folks. 

Squire A. (returning). The cat wa'n't afraid o 1 him. Naow 
what is ther erbaout a little critter like that ter scare a passle o 1 
women-folks aout o' their common-sense, I'd like ter know. 

MELISS. Wall, I dunno, 1 only know I'm skeart. that's all. 

Squire A. Ye ain't seen none o' the minister's family raound, 
hev ye? 

Saman. Why I thought they's all in the parlor. That's where 
they went a few minutes ago. (Aside to Mrs. Wilkins.) lies' 
probably arter Jerushy Brimblecome, 

Mies. W. (aside to Samanthy). Law! she's tew old maidish 
tew marry anybody. 

Sqi IRE A. Wall, most on 'em is, but some on 'em ain't, an' it's 
thrm I want. (Sound of sleigh-bells heard outside.) Hark! 
Ain't them sleigh-bells ? 1 sent one o 1 m) nun daown to fetch th' 
minister's darters hum fer ter night, an' 1 guess there '11 be some 
surprises in store tor 'em ail ; I reck'n they Ve arriv, (< '/..•> r. i>. 
Driver heard talking to horses.) Come right in, gals! You ken 
take offyer things an' -it warm afore you surprise >er ma an' pa. 



36 THE DONATION PARTY; 



{/inter Mary and Hawaii bundled in wraps and furs.) 

Mary {shaking hands with tlic Squire). Why, Squire, it was 
so kind of you to get us home to-night. (Passes to Marm Brown 
and shakes hands!) Why, here is Mann Drown! I'm so glad to ■ 
. >u well em in. 

MARM B. | my old soul, ef here ain't Mary - 

l more an 1 inure like yer mother every day. Got 
■ ion ? 

M \ i : , 

Marm B. Hey? Got the toothache? Wall, it's a shame ! An 1 

1 l.inn.ih : 

11 \ Squire then with Marm 

Brown). Well, Squii id to fly round lively to get here 

g run into by a runaway horse too. 

Mrs. W. Naow let me help ye take off yer things, gals, then 
en an' warm 'em. {Helps girls * 

s, lure's a pot ■>" beans in here ! 
They'll come in kiml o' handy tor th 1 supper to-night. {Takes 

>! ik i. , huckles to him- 
Smell kin ler good, don't 1 sit up to s: 

Mai • since we were 

| i Donation Party here 

ht. 

>. your ma and 
We played it on 'em. Phosbe cum putty nigh 
bul she dii 
.s\m w. Wa'n't it orful cold a-driving from Hillton ternight? 
M \kv. It was eold, hut we were SO well bundled up that we 
• hardly noticed it. 

iter A in i' Jerushy.) 

Aunt J. {holding up both Wall, ef here 

ain't the I .) I'll bet a sixpunce 

this ; >ur d.. in's, John Apple': 

won't lose nothin' on 
that l»et. Ain't ye kinder glad 1 thought on't? 

Ai m J. Wail, ye might ha' did wuss, I s'po ■ to 

: RE. ) Du th' gals know 'baout I lerbert's a-getting hum ? Wall, 
naow you be keerful haow you speak to 'em erbaout it. Hannah's 
SO highsteriky it'll hev ter be broke to her kinder easy like. Naow 
dont go .m' make a ; j a'ally do, John Apple- 

bee. My Stars an' gaiters. Mis' Wilkins ! you been aout here all 
the ev'nin' — an' you. Samanthy an 1 Milissy. a-working on that com- 
forter. Naow ye needn't a-done nothin' o' th' sort. Most done 
tew — wall. I never! I've been a-trying ter git aout here for th' 
last hour, but it's kinder upset me so — Herbert's a-gettin' hum, 



OR, THANKSGIVING EVE AT THE PARSONAGE. 37 

an' all, that — (catches herself with a horrified look at Mary and 
Hannah.) 

Hannah. Herbert who, Aunt Jerushy? (Squire laughs and 
holds on sides.) 

■ Aunt J. (to Squire, who continues to laugh loudly). Theer, ye 
fool, ye made me say that. You act as ef ye'd lost what leetle 
sense ye ever did possess. (To Hannah.) He's a friend o' yer 
father's, I think most likely. 

Mary. Squire, I think Aunt Jerushy is trying to give us an 
evasive reply. Won't you tell us who this Herbert is? 

Aunt J. (angrily to Squire). You've put yer foot in it now, 
ain't ye ? 

Squire A. Wall, I s'pose they've got ter know it sumetime. 
(To girls.) Naow gals, ye won't go inter highstericks, will ye? 

Hannah (nervously springing up). O Squire, tell me quick! 
Isn't father all right ? 

Squire A. (solemnly). Wall, he was erbaout ten minutes ago, 
an 1 yer mother's all right, an' Phoebe's all right, an' the cat's 
all right, an' the canary's all right. Ef there's anybody as ain't 
all right, it's yer Aunt Jerushy here. (All laugh.) 

Aunt J. (impatiently). For the land sake, why don't ye tell 'em, 
not keep 'em in suspense all night ! 

Squire A. 'Cause ye told me ter break it tew 'em easy, an' I'm 
a-breaking it tew 'em easy. 

Marm B. (turning slowly round). Ain't yer toothache any 
better, Mary? Put some ile o' clove in it, that'll help it *s quick's 
anything. 

Mrs. W. (toothers). I'll explain tew her. {Crossing to Marm 
Brown.) She ain't got no toothache — ye misunderstood her; she 
said she was hum for two weeks. 

Marm B. Oh— h— h. Thought she bed tlr toothache. {Look- 
ing toward Mary and Hannah.) They know their brother's got 
hum? (Hannah shrieks, and Mary catches hold <>/ Squire's arm, 
Marm BROWN screams, drops knitting, and gets up on chair, gath- 
ering skirls about her.) 

Marm B. Oh, a mouse, a mouse, another mouse! (All jump 
screaming into chairs except the Squire, who seizes a poker.) 

Squire A. (to Marm Brown). Where'd yer see him? 

M \km B. I didn't see him nowhere, but I hearn somebody 
scream, so I s 'posed it was another mouse. (All get down. 
SQUIRE holds on sides and laughs.) 

AUNTj. Wall, 1 wouldn't live in the haouse with that Marm 
Brown fer fifty dollars a month, vittles throwed in. Naow. gals, 
ye might es well know th" hull truth fust es last: but I won't tell 
ye a blessed word till ye set daown an' behave yerselves, the pair 
on ye. There ain't no sense a-lcttin' yer feelin's git th' upper hand 
on ye, stirrin 1 yerself up an' everybody else inter th' bargain. Y.\ 
yer can't brace yerself up to hear good news, what'll ye do when 
bad news comes? Yer brother Herbert ain't no more dead 'n I be. 



38 THE DONATION PARTY; 

an' he's got hum, an' ef yell act sensible, I'll take ye in ter see him 

Both. Herbertl our brother — not dead! 

|. Wall, that's what I said, an 1 he's right in th 1 settin'- 
room with ver mother an 1 father a-playing games. Yer mother 
ain't took her eyes off'n him th* hull blessed evenin 1 . Come, now, 

I ain't a-goin 1 ter hev no iaintin" raound here. I reck'n ye'd better 
go u I'll tell yer ma an 1 pa ye've come, an 1 they'll bring 

.'■// Aunt Jerushy andtwogirls, c. i>.) 
Sqi IRE A. 1 lell ye, Jerushy's a master hand at anything she 
under: 

MRS. W. She's a powerful smart woman. Squire, an' no mis- 
take. She's got a kinder sharp tongue though. 

Oh, she don't mean nothing by it; she's good- 
Igh. 
Mrs. W. 1 alius kinder thought you leaned a Ieetle that way, 
Squire. 
Squii in might go farther an' do miss, Mis' Wilkins. 

heard behind the tcenes.) They've got th 1 boys ter sing; 
don't ye all wanter go in an' hear 'em? {Exeunt all but Marh 
l> ) 

{Em let , Mr. Smith ,///,/ •• < ): i> l'i 11. rs." c. D.) 

Mr. S. ( politely /<> Marm Brown, who has not seen them). We 

sha'n't disturb you. madam, by our conversation, 1 hope? 

( >i i) P, {drawling in a high key). She's deefer 'n a haddock! 
He. In-, he! Gabriel's trumpet wouldn't disturb her. 

Mr. S. Very will. Mr.— Mr.— oh, Mr. Peters. Not 

quite mi much noise out here. 1 have your name right, Mr. Peters 

I :i't \: 

Old P. ( stands with hands in pockets'). Ya — as, ya— as, " Old 

,'ly calls me. Don't make no diffrunce tew me wat 
they call me, s 1 long's they daont fergit tew (.ill me tew brekfust. 

II . he, he! {Looking Mr. Smith over curiously?) So ye're th 1 

thet's stayin 1 tew « !.'-. 1 e ye? I nearn tell erbaout 

- s a kinder dandy, an' 1 guess ye be. Them's store 
clo'es ye've u«>t on, I s'j 

Mr. S. {smiling). Well, I bought them ready made. 

I'. Fit ye like a book, d.ion't they? S'pose they give ye 

' a invite tew th' party up ten th' deacon's ? Punkinville's quite a 

; ;ii't it ? S'pose you've sold some trees here? 

Mr. S feral hundred so far. 1 thought perhaps you'd 

like a few, so 1 took the liberty to invite you to talk the matter over 

here. 

OLD P. Ya — as — jess so. I's a-tellin' my son Ike this arter- 
noon 1 hoped ye'd come raound aour way sometime afore ye left 
taown. fur I wanted a do/en new appil-trees tew set aout in th' 
spring, ei the old orchard's beginnin' tew run aout. Ye ken dew 
yer own selectin", only I want th' best. 



OR, THANKSGIVING EVE AT THE PARSONAGE. 39 

Mr. S. {taking out order-booh') . I think I met your son Ike 
over to the deacon's to-day — quite a smart-looking chap. 

Old P. Ya — as, takes arter his father, on'y ther ain't no farmer 
ecbaout him. Pm sateesfied Ike's a-goin' to make a cap-in-ter. 
Pie's sawed th' hull side o' th' bairn inter pigeon-holes. 

Mr. S. He must be industrious. Pie was rather lucky in guess- 
ing the weight of that turkey yesterday, wasn't he? 

Old P. Ya-as, ya-as ; got the prize. Wa'll thet turkey didn't 
weigh ez much ez I thought it would, 'nd I hardly thought it would. 

Mr. S. Is Ike your only child? 

Old P. Oh, I've got er darter; but she's merried — merried 
an Englishman. I was sorry tew see her merry a furringer ; but it 
ain't th' same ez if he torked some aoutlandis'h gibberish nobody 
cud understand but hisself. 'Twa'n't alius safe tew oppose 
Melindy, nuther, so I gen'ly let her hev her own way. 

Mr. S. {note-book in hand). Now, Mr. Peters, what is your ad- 
dress? {Pauses.) 

Old P. Overalls an' blaouse, all the year raound, except Sun- 
days. Wife thought I'd better put on my Sunday-go-tew-meetin' 
clo'es tew night — thought I'd be warmer ; but my old clo'es is a 
dairned sight more comfortable, by gum ! 

Mr. S. {smiling). No; you don't understand quite. I mean 
to whom shall I send these trees? 

Old P. Tew me, o' course. Ye daont think I'm agwine tew 
make somebody a Chris'mus presunt on 'em, dew ye? I told ye 
onct wot my name was. 

Mr. S. Well, will you give me your initials, please. The trees 
are to be sent by express, and I don't want to run the risk of losing 
them. It is quite important that I should have your initials. 

Old P. Wall, ef I hed eny on 'em ye'd be welcome tew 'em, 
but bein's I haven't, I can't pass 'em raound. I reck'n everybody 
in th' United States knows who "Old Peters" is by this time, an' 
ef they daont, it's time they faound aout. By cracky. I guess ye 
needn't be afeered o' that! Wall, ef ye've got the order daown, 
we might ez wall go inter the other room. 

Mr. S. Yes, certainly; but excuse me just a moment, I — 

Old P. {starting to go). Sairtinly, sairtinly ; ye kin stay jest ez 
long ez suits ye, stranger — 

Mr. S. No; I — that is — just one moment, please. You'll ex- 
cuse me — ah, but your wife doesn't call you " Old Peters " does 
she? 

Old P. Nao; she gen'ly calls me a feule when she daont call 
me Zachary. 

Mr. S. {laughing and jotting down address). Ah. yes, yes; 
thanks, Mr. Peters, 1 hope you will pardon me for detaining you 
so long: I shall be most happy to go into the cither room with yrou. 
(Exeunt.) 

M \km 15. Must a been kinder cold a-drivin' over the road tew 
night, gals. {Turning round.) Hey? Wall. 1 declare I there 



40 THE DONATION PARTY; 

ain't a livin' soul left in this ore kitchen but myself. I'll just knit 
this ere heel eout, then I'll go inter the setting-room. 

li m J i ki ii v. Phoebe, and tlie Squire, unperceived by 
Mak.m Brown. 

J. Talk erbaout yer donation parties ! They'd better call 

'em ;' lie done with it. tor they leave nothin' hut 

hind 'em. Wall, child, did ye look in 

\\ ii.it'd ye find: Not much. 1 warrant; an 1 haow 

►ur own family termorrer is more'n I ken see. 

Wall, eout with it. child. \\ u a-standin 1 there a-laughin 1 

l't got no patience with 
.' th' hull park! ( Jo PHOEBE.) Why 
don't aid? 

d lont give anybody a chance ter 

I. N ( "il oblige me by makin 1 yerself skeerce o' this kitchen, 

Sqi ire A. ). I'm agoin 1 ter help ye git supper, 

iv. so I daont think ye ken dispense with me jusl yet. Naow, 

irry up an 1 answer her questions afore she gets started 

> knoww' when ye'll git another chance. {Laughs. 

u'tv.) 

Tiki i em ter be much, Miss Jerushy, but dried 

salt fish in any oh de i poun' ob s 

one I igill brung dat, — two mince pies, 

— Marin Brown brung dem, — hah a peck o' pertaters, an' a bag 

Ai \ i J. {suddenly sinking into chait I. An 1 forty-six mouths ter 

Ut CD.) 1 leow it's 
on 'n I k< n see. I ni much like 

in all my born days. ( IVij, handkerchief.) 

Law. Jerushy, don't go ter givin 1 up 
like that! (/</';■> if/, and puts arm around waist.) I carn't 
town-hearted ez that. Jerushy. It's all right, 
Jeru — 

mg up). Take yer arm away hum me. John 

in this world as makes me more 

r it's you. It sarves 'cm right. They won't git 

nothin' here ternight to eat, but what they've brought. Iwasagoin 1 

'-room, but TH jest set their things right 

in th' table jest as they salt fish, dried apples. 

.1. an' all. — an' then invite 'em eout ter supper, see ef I 

don't ! an that'll give me a good oppertoonity ter speak my mind, 

an' let em 'see haow thinu> is goin 1 in this ere parish. Cum naow, 

John Applebee, make yourself useful foronct in yer life. ( They lay 

plate . <W., into which they pour the contents of the 

tc.) 



OR, THANKSGIVING EVE AT THE PARSONAGE. 41 



{Enter Phcebe and Peter.) 

Squire A. {aside to Peter). Has John brought up the things ? 

Peter, {puffing out cheeks). Yuh-yuh-yuh-yes, sus-sus-sah. 

Squire A. Then you go and help him take the things out of the 
sleigh. {Exit Peter, r. d.) And {aside to Phcebe ) you go an' 
tell th. 1 tew gals an 1 their mother that Miss Jerushy wants 'em ter 
set the table in th' settin'-room. An' my man's eout ter the front- 
door, with turkeys, roast beef, plum-pudden, an' all the rixin's — 
everything they'll need fer a fust-class supper. Hed my own 
haousekeeper cookin' all day for this occasion ; an' there's tew gal- 
lons o' tea an' coffee, boilin' hot, all ready. Tell "em 1 want ter 
keep Miss Jerushy eout here in th 1 kitchen till th' tables is all set, 
an' don't want her tew know nothin' erbaout it — they'll understand. 

Phcebe {clasping her hands and rolling her eyes). Golly, ain't 
dat luxu'rous ! (Exit.) 

Squire A. Say, Jerushy, th 1 folks in there ain't in no pertickler 
hurry 'baout that ere supper yer a-gettin 1 ready, an 1 I've got some- 
thin' on my mind I wanter say ter ye. 

Aunt J. {going on with work). Humph! It must be a kinder 
consolation to yer ter know ye've got a mind. I dunno es I'm per- 
tickler 'baout hearin' it. {Pauses.) Wall, eout with it. 

Squire A. It's kinder lengthy, Jerushy, an' I dunno's I wanter 
hurry so. S'pos'n we set daown. {Sits and draws chair near his 
own, indicating to her to take it.) 

Aunt J. I ken hear jest es well standin' es I ken sittin 1 ; an' jest 
es soon es I git the things outer this table, I'm agoin' inter the 
other room. 

Squire A. I reck'n ye ain't, agoin 1 ter dew no sech thing, 
Jerushy, till I've hed my say eout, an 1 I daont perpose ter dew it 
till ye come an 1 set daown. 

Aunt J. Then ye'll never begin it. {Sits at a distance.) I'll 
set daown here ; naow go on. 

Squire- A. {hitching his chair towards her). Ye alius was 
obst'nit, Jerushy. We might er been — er— er — married ten 
years ago, ef ye hadn't a been ser tarnal obst'nit. Ahem ! er — 
{Gro-ws nervous and fidgety under Aunt Jerushy's gaze.) Er — 
ahem! Did you know thet Dr. Tomkins hed named his baby 
Macbeth? Er — er — yes, he did, Jerushy. I — I arsked him 
what in creation he give him seeh an outlandish name as that fer, 
an 1 he said, "'Cause Ik- murdered sleep." Yes,— er, but 1 don't 
see no sense ter that, dew you? 

AUNT J. Wall, ef that's all ve've got on yer mind. John Apple- 
bee, I'll go ter settin 1 th 1 table agin. Seems ter me ver in 
second childhood! (/vises.) 

Squire A. {seising her by arm and seating her again). Naow, 
see here, Jerushy, ye ain't agwine ter escape me this time. My 
wile'., been dead nigh outer seventeen years, an' the old haousegits 



42 THE DONATION PARTY J 

lonesomer an 1 lonesomer every year. I've been a-courtm 1 ye off 
an" on fur ten or twelve years, naow I'm agwine ter hev th 1 thing 
settled. Jerushy Brimblecome, will you be my wife? 

. J. {rising). John Apple bee, I won't, — an' that settles it. 

E A. No, itdaon't settle it nuther! 1 won't take no fur an 

answer. Jest think what yer throwin' aside, Jerushy. i*m th 1 

tt man in th' caounty. 1 ain't no poor farmer what depends 

is crops fur what he has. I've got money in th' banks, an 1 

m lands — why, I ken a rything ye want. 

I. Hew you suppose I'd marry a man I didn't keer for, 

Applebee. 

i. A. No, I don't, Jerushy. Ef I thought ye's the kinder 

woman as 'ml many for money, I wouldn't a arsked ye ter be my wife. 

J. I wouldn't marry you, ef you's the last man in th' 

world, John A; there! {Attempts to get away ', but he 

puts both arms around tier and detains Iter.) 

MARM B. turns round a/id springs to her fee/). 

Wall, 1 declare! Efsech actions ain't scandalus ! I'd never thought 
it of you two - right under th' minister's roof, an' th 1 Squire a 
pillow o' th' church tew ! 

Ai \ r J. {angrily). Scandalus is it ? Wall, I've got jest es much 
right ter b body. .Maim Brown! {The Squire 

//s.) 
MARM B. You don't mean ter say that you an' th 1 

Squii 

A i m J. (,; [re). The old gossip! I fergot she was 

anywhere raound. {Loftily.) It wouldn't a happened ef it hadn't 

her. Ye needn't shake yer sides an 1 laugh, 

Squire A. Ai- '• ter congraterlate us, Mann Brown? 

Marm B. {shaking hands with both). Of course I be. I've 

hearn ye say, Jerushy, "at ye didn't believe in long courtships, so I 

r'll ! ■<• mi rried right soon ? 

Iiris'mus, ain't it, Jerushy? 
Aunt J. Wall, there's time enough ter talk that over bimeby, 
John • {to M.\k\t BROWN), "ye ain't ter say a word 

erbaoul this ter any one, d'ye understand? 

Marm B. Law sakes ! no. of course not — I wouldn't mention it 
tew anybody fur th 1 world. {Enter tJie minister's family with 
waiters 1 aprons on . ) 

Mrs. r>. {taking Squire's hands). O Squire, how good you 
! How can we thank you for your though tfulness and kind- 
's all ready, so step right into the sitting-room, 
g; to be waiters to-night, you see. 
Aim 1. {looking at her own table). All ready! Wall, I guess 
not. John Applebee\s been a-botherm' me so I ain't been able ter 
dew notltin'. 

MARM B. An' jes tew think on't, Jerushy's engaged at last. 
Aii. Engaged! (Aim Jerushy looks horrified. Squire 
holds on his sides and laughs.) 



OR, THANKSGIVING EVE AT THE PARSONAGE. 43 

Squire A. (to Marm Brown). I thought you promised not to 
tell. {Laughs.) 

Marm B. Hey? (Squire repeats.) Oh, law! Wall, right 
here in the famMy — of course 1 thought you'd tell them. 

MRS. B. Why, Aunt Jerushy ! What does she mean? Is it 
really so? 

Aunt J. Wall, I s'pose ye might es well know fust es last. It 
is SO ! (All crowd round and congratulate her.) 

Rev. Mr. B. This seems to be a happy day for us all, Aunt 
Jerushy! And I think we shall every one of us find it a joyous 
Thanksgiving to-morrow, in spite of your prophecies this morning 
to the contrary. 

Aunt J. Law! well, I s'pose I'm human like th 1 rest o' th 1 
prophets. 

Herbert 

Mary c. Hannah 

Mrs. Baxter Marm Brown 

Rev. Mr. Baxter Squire Applebee 

Phcebe. Aunt Jerushy. 

r. c. CURTAIN. l. c. 



n 



RTHUR W.PINERO'S 

PLHYS, 



By arrangement with Mr. A. W. Pinero, the eminent 
English playwright, we are enabled to offer to amateurs eight 

of his popular plays as follows : 

THE TIMES. 

. s. Six males, seven females. 

DANDY DICK. 

'I'in:: i A' r& Seven males, four females* 

THE PROFLIGATE. 

Se9en males, five females. 

THE MAGISTRATE. 

•"ales, four /cmales. 

LADY BOUNTIFUL. 

'i. iles. 

SWEET LAVENDER. 

I i: : ' \ . Six males, four females. 

THE HOBBY HORSE. 

1 'in: i i \ . males, five' females. 

THE CABINET MINISTER. 

R A( l \% 'J en males, nine females. 



\ 
These plays are not for sale, but can be obtained for 
amateur production <>n payment <>f an Author's Royalty of $30.00 a 
performance, in each case, in advance. Sample copies 
cannot be sent under any circumstances save to peo- 
ple personally known to US. Copies will, however, be de- 
i d in the hands of <>ur correspondents at different principal points 
t"i examination by those t<> whom the plays are not already known. 
All business relal plays can be concluded only by diiect 

correspondence with us, which is accordingly invited. 



WALTER H. BAKER & CO. 

THEATRICAL BOOKSELLERS AND PUBLISHERS, 

No. 2; Winter Street, BOSTON, MASS. 



A NEW WAR DRAMA. 



At the Picket Line. 

A Military Drama of the Civil War in Five Acts. 
By JUSTIN ADAMS, 

AUTHOR OF "T'RISS; OR, BEYOND THE KOCKIE8," " THIC INFERNAL MA- 

CHINK," "DAWN," "THE SUICIDE CLUB," "THE ENGINEER," 

"THE RAG-PICKER'S CHILD," "THE LIMIT OK THE LAW," 

" DOWN EAST," ETC. 

Ten male and three female characters. Costumes modern and military. 
Scenery varied, but not difficult. This piece is a proven success, having been on 
the road for several seasons, and is now printed for the first lime with ail the 
original " business " and stage directions. Its story is ingenious and absorbing 
in interest, its sentiment geuuin ly patriotic, its dialogue vigorous and its humor 
abundant. An excellent battle scene and a camp scene, boih perfectly pracl ica- 
ble, admirably fit it for the use of Grand Army entertainments. All the char- 
acters are strong, Cherrington, the hero, being very magnetic, and Silvy, a refined 
soubrette, a part of great opportunity. 

Price .... 25 Cents. 

SYNOPSIS: 

ACT I. The Northern home. "The best darter that ever lived." Hiram and 
Siivy. A wayward son. Albert Cherrington. More than a brother. The 
mortgage. The hawk and the dove. "Too late! He has given his word." 
Silvy speaks. " But I havn't." 

ACT II. SCENE 1. Dissembling. The wedding ring. A deserter. The awk- 
ward squad. " The gal I left behind me." French leave. The wrong man. 
An easy promotion. UNDER ARREST. SCENE 2. At headquarters. " A wise 
recruit that knows his own name." The missing witness. Lrosscomb again. 
" I never saw that man before in all mv life." DOOMED. 

ACT 111. At the picket line. Camp followers. The fringe of a plot. In rebel 
uniform. Leonoraand Caleb. Outwitted. "Remember that one live woman 
is more dangerous than a hundred dead men.'' Surrendered to a girl. 
Si'kxe 2. The battle. A skulker. Playing possum. A bold charge. "An- 
other victory for the North." SCENE 3. Alter the battle. Bobbing the 
dead. The vision of Silvy. THE RECOGNITION. "No! He is a Union spy." 

ACT IV. The Union camp. ' Humors of camp life. "A drop o' the crater." 
A vile plot. The warning. "Here's a small bottle for yourself alone." 
The tables turned. ".My God, the liquor was poisoned!"' The traitor's 
death. " It means that I, who have almost starved for a crust of bread, am 
now a millionaire." 
'ACT V. The North again. A ruined home. The returned soldier. Cr 

once more. Silvy's wedding day. Albert Cherrington. Dark before the 
dawn. ••Ah, it is his ring." Hiram lifts the veil. "Yes, Silvy, he is 
a-living." Crosscomb crossed. "Then her father's son Will pay it." The 
altar and the halter. UNITED. 



A NEW MONOLOGUE FOR A GENTLEMAN. 



The Proposal. 

By HECTOR FEZANDiE. 

One male character In modern oostume. A verv clever .• u i < l : . 
stor> of every-day life, very livelj and dramatic. Plays twelve oiiui 

Price . . . . 18 Cents. 



By the Author of " A RICE PUDDING." 



A MODEL LOVER. 



A COMEDY IN TWO ACTS. 



By ESTHER B. TIFFANY, 

A.UTHOB "I" "\ BOBROWKD rMi:i:i:i,l..\," "THAT IWTRICK," " TOrXG 
Mil. PBITCHABD," '• v i::< i: PUDDING," "Tin: WAY To His 

rocur," "ami L*a ikiai,," " a.n autograph 

1.1 l i i :;:," in . 

Three male iad three female characters. Costumes modem, save the dress 
of the " model " f'>r whieh any picturesque costume will do. Scene, an artist's 
studio, very easily improvised. This is a clever and graceful little play in Miss 
Tiffanj "- characteristic manner. The Btory is Interesting, the dialogue delicately 
humorous, the eharaeterlzatlon strong and humanly quaint. Can be strongly 
reoommeadedtothe beet taste in such matters. 

Price 15 Cents. 



A NEW PARLOR FARCE. 



PER TELEPHONE 



A FARCE IK ONE ACT. 



MARGARET MONTGOMERY. 

Two male and three female characters. Scene, a drawing-room ; costumes, 
mod, -in and elegant. Avery bright and amusing little play developing in its 
action some of the perils of making love by telephone. Mr. Guy Harling, by 
making use of this mode of communication, proposesto Nan's cousin instead of 
Nan Cuzzin, to his great consternation. A very bright little piece for parlor 
performance. 

Price .... 15 Cents. 



BY THE AUTHOR OF "THE COUNTRY SCHOOL." 

THE DONATION PARTY; 

. . , OR . . . 

THANKSGIVING EVE AT THE PARSONAGE. 

A COMEDY IN THREE ACTS. 

By MARTHA RUSSELL ORNE, 

AUTHOR OF "THE COUNTRY SCHOOL," "A LIMB <>* THE LAW," "a BLACK ** 

DIAMOND," ETC. 

Thirteen male and nine female characters, many of them unimportant. Costumes rus- 
tic; scenery very easy. This is a comedy of character and incident, the plot bei 
subordinate and unimportant. As a picture of country life and character it is very faithful 
and humorous, and is sure to arouse sympathy and evoke many a laugh. Aunt Jerushy 
(old maid), Marm Brown (eccentric), Squire App'.ebee, Bro. Smith, and Old Peters 
(character), and Pete and Phoebe (colored), are sure to be favorites. 

Price 15 Cents. 



BY THE AUTHOR OF "PROF. BAXTER'S INVENTION." 



A Singing School of ye Oiden Time. 

AN OLD FOLKS' ENTERTAINMENT IX I >NE SCENE. 
By HARY BARNARD HORNE, 

." " i HE BO K OP 



For any Dumber "f i hara< t 
Singing School," as it ha musical entei 

vein as the popular " Country School." isal 
time iiistitiiti.iiiwhi.li it celebrates, ind in the hind 
and learned t<> ring them in the old * 13 
to either - tage or platfoi 
funny Inddenl and bright lines. 

Price Ml < rats. 



A NEW PLAY FOR FEMALE CHARACTERS. 



A KING'S DAUGHTER. 

A ( ( >MEDY IN THREE ACTS. 

[ALE CHARACTERS ONLY. 

By RACHEL E. BAKER, 
a i raoa oi "The Chapi bos," •• ai n b Taps," Bob," bt< . 

. I 
xcelleut Boluiiwii o£ the difficult 

• icterg only. >>':in 
:::!.-! ion arouse t!.<- Btrougesl dra- 

li fully won. 
Aniph • il»le girlish frivolity serve to re- 

in \ ■ to promulgate 111* 
ehar Its name, but will 

. 

I 'i i< «• . . . . zr> Ontg. 

SYNOPSIS: 

mom. The King's Daughters. Rebecca and 
the ■: . S|- ncer « ill 

, ition. An unknown friend. 'I be 

• j . lea ai 

i i i k. 
irk. Thepost- . T< 

d v aud the iih\i-. sdli.'s candy. 

i id tli" Boda-fountain. The 
letter I re all. " My li>'U-.- is 

] ii«> \\<>rl<l before )i>r. 

1 N I . 

ACT III. In the hay-field. T 

H r» there no atonement I 

I'hel) y. Helen. "I 

will never again call forgiven me." 

! I Fairy Godmoi m. it. A mm-- 

• photograph. A new Cinderella. 

Aunt Clarissa's mystery. The explanation. "A Ki>o'8 Daughter." 



A NEW O iMEIjIETTA. 



A Borrowed Umbrella. 

A COMEDIETTA IN ONE ACT. 

By ESTHER B. TIFFANY, 
Author of "A Bh ■ Puddihg," "A Model Lovi b, 

deand two female characters. Scenery, unimportant ; costumes mod- 
em. A rery bright and graceful little trifle. Plays oidy about fifteen minutes. 




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